


Murmuration

by Coniferophyta



Category: SKAM Austin
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Characters, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Touch-Starved, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, prediction of Shay's season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coniferophyta/pseuds/Coniferophyta
Summary: We meet up with Shay two months after Megan reads her text to Tyler at the carnival.  She has spent her summer avoiding her family, crawling in and out of Tyler's window and crashing with assorted friends and acquaintances.  This story will be about her navigating her dysfunctional family, finding new friends, first love, and trying to attend school and find stability in her life.For those new to the fandom: SKAM Austin is a remake of a Norwegian show called SKAM.  Each season is from a different character's POV.  Season 1 was from Meg's POV, Meg cheated on Marlon, Shay (because she liked Meg) helped the rumor spread, Meg found out and guessed it was because she liked Marlon, then Meg accidentally saw a text between Shay and Tyler that outed her, nobody told Shay they saw the text.  As far as we know, Meg, her friend Grace, and Tyler are the only people who know that Shay is gay.  This story is a prediction of Shay's season roughly following major plot points from the original series. Austin remake is notable because Shay's character in the original is male, which got me super excited for her story.I started this project as a series of short stories, but have joined them into one.  No update schedule.





	1. More complicated than it has to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to link my playlist since so much of it ended up in this story https://open.spotify.com/user/ykx45p4s5h9ve7pl67awn1zqm/playlist/4DcVKJBKaPAkE6RNDbCFPD?si=CUZ3mYPuRzOpPQDGF1k8HA
> 
> you can find SKAM Austin Season one here: https://www.facebook.com/SKAMaustin/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++++
> 
> I feel Kyle’s hands on my waist, his knee between mine, his mouth wet and warm on my throat, he’s whispering things to me that should make me feel good. His mouth technically feels nice… I guess, but like every other time with every other guy, it’s never what it’s supposed to be. I didn’t even actually like Meg, not really, it was just a crush, but just looking at her felt like more than this and my stomach aches at the realization. Just more proof, I’m so fucking gay, it feels like a failure.
> 
> +++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my Shay story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, some bits will feel familiar if you watched OG SKAM, but Shay's story is her own as far as I am concerned. I love her so much <3
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Shay works to maintain her reputation and keep herself firmly in the closet. She tries to find some kind of stability while staying with friends and trying to avoid her mother's home.

 

+++++

 

I hear Tyler sigh as we leave his house and look up to see that he is watching Marlon in the cab of his truck, the light from his phone illuminating his profile. “Here we go,”  Tyler says half to himself.   He throws the door open and gestures for me to get in. “You get the middle seat, whore.”  He says to me as soon as the passenger door opens.  Of course, I’m relegated to being squeezed between them with the spring up my ass and the gearshift pressed against my knee.  Of course, I am.  

Tyler forgets I'm only doing this for _him._ The summer has been long as fuck, and a lot of things have shifted for me, I've really started to wonder why the hell people are so up Marlon's ass-- he's not that great.  He's kind of an asshole, actually.  I wouldn't be here tonight if Tyler hadn't asked me to.  I owe Tyler _everything_.

We're on our way to a party... again.

"You and your backpack, man, why do you drag that thing everywhere?"  Marlon asks, eyeing the bag between my feet.

"I need my shit man, don't stress yourself about it," I snap back.

"You're not taking into the party with you," he tells me.

"Obviously, I'll leave it in the truck, chill, bro."

"Leave her alone, Mar, let's go," Tyler says helpfully and nudges me in the ribs with his elbow.

Marlon pulls out onto the street and heads towards the freeway.

The party is on the upper-middle-class side of town, not too far from where Marlon lives, not too far from where I used to live.  Back in August, our band had been given a 30-minute slot on a side stage with a handful of other bands at a festival.  It was fun and we played six songs, mostly covers.  We lingered afterward with the other bands and found ourselves in the middle of a little party on the closed-off street behind the stage while the festival crew disassembled everything.

This drummer, Eddie, from this band called Another Autumn got buddy-buddy with me.  I was just sitting awkwardly on the speakers, nursing a beer all evening wishing I was somewhere else, but next thing I knew he was there, way too close and way too chatty for my taste.  I’m pretty sure he was drunk, but when he eventually invited me to a house party for some band that played the main stage, I knew Marlon would slaughter me if I said anything other than  _yes_.  All that was a month ago, he most probably won’t remember me if I see him tonight, I don’t know if I’d even recognize him, I realize they might not even let us in the house.  I don’t even know which band is hosting the party, though I’m sure Marlon does.

I tuck my bag under the seat as far as I can and make sure the door is locked when we leave it on the street next to the address listed on my phone. Marlon is nervously fixing his hair as we make our way up the driveway. “You look dope,” I hear Tyler assure him, and I give him a disgusted look from behind Marlon. Tyler has the dignity to look embarrassed at least. 

It all goes over Marlon’s head, evidently, because he starts micromanaging us, “Remember to talk to people,”  he instructs, “don’t just find people you know and hide behind them… talk to  _new_  people… mention our band… mention that we’re playing downtown next month…” he is telling us.

“Bruh, want me to wear our band t-shirt?”   Tyler deadpans.

“Should I hand out our demos like party favors?”  I smirk.

Marlon ignores us, “Shay, find that guy and spend some time with him, he was into you.”

“I’ll whore myself out especially for you, Mar.  I’ll go ahead and blow him in the bathroom—or should I hold out for a lead singer?  Just fuck the whole band right in the middle of the living room in exchange for time on the main stage?”

“Dude, gross,”  Tyler murmurs beside me.

Marlon stops and looks at me, “You should meet someone, Shay, like _really_ meet someone nice, not just fuck around.”  He says to me and it’s loaded and I wish for some frozen airplane waste to fall from the sky, pierce my skull, put me out of my misery.  _Oh my God, so fucking humiliating._   Tyler shoots me wide eyes over Marlon’s shoulder. 

“Marlon…”   I hear myself mutter, but I’m not sure what I planned to say.

“Let’s stop lurking like losers, yeah?”  Tyler says, his voice uncomfortable.  Marlon turns, fixes his hair again and climbs the stairs.  He’s already being loud with whoever answered the door.  

Tyler looks at me flatly, so I cut him off before he can even start, “Shut up.”

“Dude, just tell him,” he says anyway.

“Shut. Up.”

“Fucking Meg, what a bitch.” 

“Shut… the fuck… up, _”_  I say again.

Tyler loops his arm through mine with a shrug, “Forget that shit, let’s go make bad decisions,”  He tells me.

 

I wasn’t there when she did it, but Marlon told Tyler that Meg got drunk back in July and told him some shit about me.  It seems that she left out the details of me having anything to do with the crap with Jordan and OverheardBouldin but told him that I told her I was into him. And now he thinks that’s a  _thing._  He thinks I’m fucking  _pining_  for him and it’s disgusting and humiliating, and I want to fucking die. 

Even worse, he talks to Tyler about it like it’s this secret between them, even though Tyler immediately told me because Tyler knows about my bullshit thing for Meg and it’s a giant shitshow… the Venn diagram of this situation is staggering.  Why did I tell her that? Why didn’t I think of a lie?  Why did I say yes when she guessed that was why I exposed her and Jordan? My very existence is nothing but the accumulation of bad decisions.

 

The house stinks like beer and feet and weed… and maybe pretzels?  And vomit?  I smell vomit, or maybe that’s just cheap alcohol, it always smells and tastes the same going in as coming out.  The music is some kind of college rock shit, and it’s loud.  This is not music meant to be loud.  People are bobbing their heads, grouped around the room, they are mostly older than us.  We don’t belong here, but Marlon is already long gone.

I feel Tyler’s hand on the small of my back and take comfort in it for a moment until he unceremoniously shoves me into the room, and I turn to see him swanning away like he owns the place.

“Hey! Shay… speaker girl!”  I hear and whip back to see Eddie standing in front of me.  Tyler just literally threw me into him.   _Thanks, bro._

“Yo…” I hear myself say, long and drawn out.  It’s embarrassing, and I can’t stop even when I notice I’m doing it.

Eddie just smiles, “You showed up!”  He says, excited. I look back to see that Tyler is gone.

“Yep!”  I say, popping the P.

“You want something to drink?” 

“Sure,” I shrug unenthusiastically.  “I probably needed to be mildly intoxicated, like an hour ago.”

He laughs, his hand on my back, guiding me towards the kitchen.  I don’t want his hand on me, so I walk a little faster, and his hand eventually drops. “Don’t like parties?”  He asks.

The kitchen is relatively empty, “No, not at all,” I tell him, too honestly.  I'm supposed to be convincing him that I'm happy to be here, but I never do well on my own like this, I need someone I know with me.  It's times like these that I miss Meg, she either took the attention away or was awkward right alongside me.  I shake the thought, I have new friends now, Beth, Rosa, and Malik, and they should be here somewhere... I invited them myself, they said they would come, and I need them like air right now.

“Stick with me, I’ll watch out for you,” Eddie tells me, too close to my ear, making me pull back instinctively.  He doesn't seem to notice, because he smiles at me and leans against the counter.  I will 100% be going against Marlon’s recommendation that I avoid clinging to people I know. I just have to find some way to ditch him and find them.  I feel my phone in my pocket and wonder how rude it would be to text them and find out. 

I look down at the bottle of beer he has given me, it smells horrible.  I hate alcohol. “Thanks,”  I tell him and drink it down halfway quickly. I need to find that balance, that slight buzz of alcohol to loosen me up without making me a new kind of nervous. 

+++++

I find myself trapped in that kitchen for what feels like hours, long enough to finish my first beer and for the second beer I’m pretending to drink to leach the heat from my skin and turn lukewarm. Eddie continues to ramble on about music and school, not noticing that I’m miserable. He’s a sophomore in college and is studying whatever the fuck he’s studying.  I’m going to need to _use the bathroom_  soon so I can ghost him, and find my friends because I can’t do this all night.

“Hey, girl, how you doin'?”  I hear all flirty behind me, and Eddie glares over my shoulder.

I whip around, “Tyler!”  _Thank fuck._

My voice is too bright, even he looks surprised by it, but his eyes slide clumsily from me and onto Eddie, “Hey, you’re that guy in that band,” Tyler tells him, and I realize that Tyler is drunk, or at the very least tipsy as fuck.

“You drunk already?” I ask him.

Tyler winks at Eddie, “Dude, I’m giving it my fucking all.” Eddie scowls at him.

“Let’s go get some air, yeah?”  I suggest and drag Tyler out the back door, thankful for the excuse to leave the conversation.

I stumble him down the stairs and lean him against the side of the house, “Have you seen anyone we know?”  I ask him, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he holds a finger up to silence me as he clicks away on his phone, swaying between the side of the house and my body.

“Hey, I know you,” I hear and turn to find a group of kids I vaguely recognize as being from our school. I'll be more comfortable with them than I had been with the older group inside. They are sitting in a circle near the garage someone is strumming a guitar, and I can smell weed heavy in the air around them. The guy who spoke to me is in some class or another with me.  I don’t remember his name, he has dirty blonde hair under the light from the back porch. “He okay?” he asks, nodding to Tyler.

“He’s okay, just overdid it with the hipster brew,” I explain.

“We’re smoking over here, want to join us?”

Tyler is still poking away at his phone, I pull him with me and watch the guy wave his friends away, so everyone shifts to make room for us right beside him. We fall onto the grass and join their circle.  Tyler lays down in my lap earning questioning looks from the guy who invited us. I am passed a joint and happily fill my lungs, “You go to our school,” a blonde girl says to me.

“I do,” I agree.

“She’s Shay,” the guy tells them, and okay, he knows me, I guess.

“Shaydee, biotch!” Tyler contributes, against my lap, reaching his arm unsteadily towards the joint as it passes.  I snatch it from his reach, then pat him when he pouts about it, he needs to sober up so I can deliver him home without his moms freaking out.

The guy introduces himself, as he watches me blow perfect rings, one of my marketable party talents, I am feeling on edge though and realize I wasn't listening.

I pass the joint to the left, “You have a class with me… I think?”  I offer.

“Last year I did,” he clarifies.

I cringe, “Oh.”

The group starts talking, and I hear someone call the guy Kyle and try to file that away, though I already know that I’m going to forget again.

After a few minutes, there is a bustle of noise behind us, and I turn to watch as some of our crew spills noisily from the house. Beth shoves Tyler from my lap and forces herself into the narrow space beside him, forcing me closer to Chris or whatever his name was, Kyle!--  _fuck I’m bad at this_.  Malik, with Rosa against his side, moves across from us. The group has been invaded, “This cool?”  I ask  _Kyle,_ and he shrugs and smiles at me.

“... spin the bottle...” I vaguely hear Beth suggest and I roll my eyes. 

A few people chuckle, “Is this middle school?”  Rosa asks.

“Just find someone to make out with if you want to suck face, Beth, don’t wait for a bottle to tell you your destiny,”  I advise, Beth shoots me a dirty look.  The girl tries too hard; she reeks of desperation.

“I thought we were meeting new people,” I hear behind us and turn to see Marlon looking down at us from the porch disapprovingly.

“Uh-oh,” Tyler says from the grass beside me, then giggles.

“We  _are_  new people,” Kyle grumbles at him, and I turn to see him holding out the joint to me.  I take it from him, and when he smiles, I smile back.  When I glance at Marlon, he still looks pissed.  The pressure is on, I’m underperforming, I have shit to prove.   _Fuck._

“Hey, ever shotgun?” I ask Kyle.

His eyebrows shoot up, and I hear someone laugh uncomfortably.  I inhale deeply and lean forward. He hesitates for a moment before leaning in to meet me.  His eyes flick between my mouth and my eyes, he wets his lips.  He’s into it.  I exhale and he inhales, no smoke escapes between us, not a single wisp, we’re that close.

“Jesus, Shay,”  Beth says, sounding scandalized.  When we're done, I press my mouth softly onto Kyle’s and then swipe my tongue across his lip as he pulls away.  I'm paying my dues.  He coughs as he exhales and I pass the joint to my left, over Tyler to Beth.  I glance down at Ty and he’s looking up at me, his eyes serious.  There’s always someone I’m disappointing.

 

+++++

 

However long later I’ve got a nice buzz going on, and Kyle’s got me plastered against a wall in a dark corner of the house.  I think Marlon would prefer I was spending time with someone more influential, but Kyle feels safe, and I'm technically fulfilling my obligations.  We’re on-script so far, I just pray that Tyler is sobering up somewhere so we can leave soon.  I don’t really know where anyone else is, but I need witnesses for this to be worth it.  Kyle’s only going to make out with me for so long before he expects something else, I’ve been in this situation enough times to know how far to let it go before I slip away, take a bit of time out of sight, leave everything ambiguous.  Then round people up, and we split.  I am simultaneously trashing my reputation and building it into something epic.  It’s a monster of my own creation.  I’m not exactly sure what my end game is anymore.

I feel Kyle’s hands on my waist, his knee between mine, his mouth wet and warm on my throat, he’s whispering things to me that should make me feel good.  His mouth technically feels nice, I guess, but like every other time with every other guy, it’s never what it’s  _supposed_  to be.  I didn’t even actually  _like_ Meg, not really, it was just a crush, but just looking at her felt like more than this and my stomach aches at the realization.  All of this is just more proof that I’m so fucking gay, it feels like a failure.

Over his shoulder I see Beth enter the room with Rosa and feel overwhelming relief that this is almost done.  Beth sees me and smacks her arm across Rosa’s chest, almost spilling her drink and earning a glare before Rosa sees me too.  Beth looks impressed, Rosa looks exasperated, her eyes sliding down to take in the whole scene, judging, judging, judging.  Okay, mission accomplished, time to squash this shit. “Let’s go outside,” I say lowly to Kyle, and he raises his head. 

His eyes are shining as he searches mine, “Outside--? Okay. Sure!” He says quickly and steps back.  He takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd to the backyard where this all started.  The groups littering the yard don’t pay much attention to us.  It’s the perfect set up.  I scan the yard and spot a shed, pull him across the yard as people watch us pass.  Once around the corner I lean back against the wall and pull him against me again. His body is solid and warm, he smells nice, his tongue in my mouth is gentle, and he tastes like beer, this could be worse, at least it's pretty here.  The streetlight is making patterns with the leaves against the shed, and I notice how the two street lights make double shadows. 

Last year there was an eclipse, and the shadows from the walnut tree outside of my old room left shimmering crescent-moon shadows on the cement.  I wrote a paper about that for my science class.  I also wrote a song about it. I’m singing the unfinished song to myself in my head when I feel the cold air against my skin as Carl… (Kyle/Kurt?) slides his hands under my shirt up high on my ribs, “This okay?” he whispers against my neck, curling his body against me. I'm about to laugh it off and stop him when his thumb brushes against the underside of my breast and panic spirals through me, head to toe.  We’re done here. 

I catch his wrist and push him away more gently than I want to, and thankfully he lets me, “Hey, what time is it?”  I ask him, my voice is deceptively calm for how my heart is pounding in my chest.

He leans into me, touches my braids, looks confused, “Time?” He seems to shake himself out of it and pulls his phone out.

I don’t even wait for him to tell me, my heart is pounding, “Shit, I gotta go,” I tell him, my voice is shaking, and I clear my throat.

“No, really?” he scowls, disappointed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,”  I scoff, “just late, my mom will be pissed,” I lie, shrug, click my tongue…  _tsk_ ,  _aw shucks_.

“You need a ride?” He asks.

I’m already walking away, my feet leading me to the street, though I intended to head back to the house, too late now.

“No, I’ve got a ride, thanks.” 

_More lies._

“You sure?  I’ll walk you….”

“Nope. Thanks, see you around,” I tell him and rush out the side gate.

I’m an idiot, everyone is still inside at the party, but I can’t go back, and if I did they might not be ready to go.  I see Marlon's truck down the street, my bag locked inside, Marlon has the keys,  _fuck,_ I can’t go back in there.  I start walking down the street, I'll have to get my bag later. I can still feel Kyle's hands on my skin, I can feel where his thumb brushed against my breast, I feel fucking skeezed out.  My stomach cramps painfully. It shouldn’t feel  _this_  wrong, it’s ridiculous, he was just feeling me up, he even asked, I’m a fucking disaster. 

I head south towards the freeway and cut into a back neighborhood to formulate a plan in case he comes looking for me. I need all of my shit.  _Goddamn it._  

A car drives past, loud muffler someone calls out the window at me, whistles, making me jump.  I see a Shell station and pull out my phone, start walking towards it.  I thumb through my contacts, I can’t afford a taxi, I look at Tyler’s moms' numbers, I’m supposed to call them, they have made me promise I would if ever in this  _exact_  situation.  My thumb hovers.  Too many questions, Tyler will get busted.  Marlon… Beth… Rosa….  My dad….

Fuck.  I fucked up.

I lock my phone and put it in my pocket.  I know where I’m going.  I brace myself and head back toward the main road.  It’s not too far away. 

+++++

 

I stick to the shadows once I get to the neighborhood.  Pause across the street and take in the house, sitting there looking deceptively ordinary in the moonlight. I haven’t been here in a month; someone has cut the grass, my dad must have come by, or sent someone.  The light is on downstairs, my mom is either still awake, or more likely has fallen asleep on the couch.  There is a chance my window is locked, but I doubt it, I leave it unlocked for this exact reason, and nobody ever goes in my room unless I'm there not wanting them to.  I slip along the side of the house, peek into the kitchen, it’s dark and empty, I quickly pull myself up on top of the old dog house, onto the low roof of the kitchen, then up onto the eave above the dining room.  My bedroom window slides easily and I slip in through the curtains onto my dresser. 

The smell of the house makes me anxious, it’s no longer a smell I associate with home.  I leave the room dark so I don’t alert anyone that I am here and wipe dust from my hands onto my jeans. I was right, nobody has been in this room since I left. I slide the window closed and step lightly as I go to check the door, it’s locked from the inside, and I realize I’d left it that way last time I was here.  I still have clothes in my dresser and closet, so I grab a few things from my room, shoving them into one of my prepacked bags from my closet, toiletries already stacked in the bottom.   I quietly place the bag beside the window for a quick getaway, this is not my first rodeo, as they say.  I stay fully dressed in case I need to split and curl up on my bed on top of my blankets.  I set my phone alarm to wake me up at before sunrise, it's on vibrate, but I'll wake up, I'm a notoriously light sleeper.  The early alarm will give me enough time to get out of here before my mom is awake and find my way to Tyler’s house before I have to go to work.

My phone vibrates and it’s a text from Beth.

 

_Beth_

_12:35 a.m._

 

_Where are you?  Unlatch yourself from that random's face. We’re heading out, Ty is sobered up enough._

_I already split, got a ride_

_whore._

_You sober?  give me the code word._

_pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconisosis_

_I think that's right, I might be too drunk to tell.  Close enough?_

_Be safe, will he get you home?_

_oh yeah I’m set, no worries._

_Can you make sure Tyler takes my bag from Marlon's car, please?_

 

_Sure thing._

_goodnight, call me tomorrow so I know you got home okay._

_Promise._

I look over my texts for a minute then lock my phone, plunging the bedroom into darkness except for the light coming under the crack in the door. 

 

I don't dare really sleep; I will need to make a quick exit if my mom tries the door.  I doze a little but keep an eye on the light of the hallway, and listen for the squeak of the top step, it never comes, my mom must have slept downstairs all night.  I turn my alarm off a minute before it goes off, I have to pee, but there's no way I'm going to risk opening that door.  I slip back out the window with my new bag, into the foggy fall air, it’s still dark out, the edge of the sky just threatening to pinken up. 

I stop at the gas station to use their bathroom, pulling a toothbrush, a washcloth, some deodorant from my bag, try to pull myself together.  It’s a good 30-minute bus ride to get to Tyler’s house, I’m sitting among early morning commuters and other young people doing their own versions of the ride-of-shame home.  Hair mussed, makeup smeared, high heel shoes sitting in their laps.  We all avoid each other's eyes.

When I finally get to Tyler's, I slip into the space between the house and his neighbor’s fence.  It’s quiet everywhere, though I know soon his busy home will resume its usual constant daytime din.  I never notice the noise until I’m outside of it.  There are more children in that home than is reasonable.

I’m used to navigating this stretch of side lawn in the dark.  Since last spring I’ve had to sneak through almost every night and every morning to climb through Tyler’s window.  The long-term plan is that I will soon be invited to stay, use the front door to come and go, soon I might even have a key.  It strikes me how poorly lit Tyler’s street is here in the crappy part of town.  Marlon’s is all bright and open, even my mom’s place had less of a  _knifed-in-a-dark-alley_ aesthetic than Tyler’s home, but I feel infinitely safer here than anywhere in the world… always.

I open my phone and pull up my messages, there are five messages from my father, and fifteen unread messages from my mother from yesterday alone, just from the previews, I can see hers are mostly Bible quotes. I move past them to text Tyler that I am on my way to his window, and put my phone away. I look up at the last of the stars above me, revel in how small they make me feel, it's a better kind of _small_ than how I feel when I force myself to think of my whole fucked up mess.   I try to pretend I’m not traipsing through a minefield of dog shit and look up to those stars, infinite in every direction for all of space and time _._ Oddly the thought makes me feel infinite too.  If space goes on forever in every direction, then I am, in fact, the center of the universe, as my mother once hatefully spat at me.

My ankle rolls as I step on something and I catch myself on the fence, glaring at a rogue Frisbee in the shadows, the neighbor’s dog is suddenly there, throwing himself against the chain-link wanting to rip my face off. That fucking dog always acts like he doesn’t know me.

The window behind me slides open and there Tyler is looking like roadkill, “Jesus, announce to the whole neighborhood, loser!” he hisses and steps aside for me to climb in his window.  He falls back onto his bed while I shut his window and pull his curtains shut, “Fucking mock walk of shame,” he mutters into his pillow, “you’re an idiot.”

I stand awkwardly in the center of his room, and feel suddenly on the verge of tears, he’s right, I make things much more complicated than they have to be.  He turns his head to me, reading my silence, “Come snuggle, dickhead,” he says to me, his tone gentler, so I drop my bag and crawl behind him into his bed, pulling his blanket over me.  “You okay?” he asks me quietly, turning to face me. 

His face is close to mine and his breath reeks, I push his hair back anyway, “I’m okay.  You?”

“Fucking hung over, sorry I got drunk.  I left you hanging, I got your bag.”

I shrug, “I’m okay,” I pluck at my sweatshirt, “it gave me a chance to pick up a few things.”

He doesn’t ask for details, just searches my face in the semi-dark, “Sleep a bit before you have to go.  You have work today, right?” I just nod, I can tell he wants to suggest I call in sick, but he won’t because he knows I need the money, “Sleep,”  he says again and tucks me in.

 

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:
> 
> Shay deals with the consequences of her behavior at the party. She shows off to her friends at lunch and catches the eye of a fellow student.


	2. Phenomenal Fraud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++++
> 
> I replay lunch all day, I feel like an idiot, why am I so damn extra? Why do I need so much attention? My mind wanders, and in French, when my name is called and everyone is looking at me expectedly, all I am thinking about is my fingers tangled in soft curls, and pressing my lips into the deep dimpled cheek of some chick I saw for 10 seconds an hour ago.
> 
> +++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
> Shay works to maintain her reputation and keep herself firmly in the closet. She tries to find some kind of stability while staying with friends and trying to avoid her mother's home.
> 
> In this installment:  
> Shay deals with the aftermath of her choices at the party. She performs a rap at lunch for her friends but regrets her showing off when she notices someone watching her.
> 
> The "rap" Shay does while showing off is "Phenomenal Woman" by Maya Angelou (with a couple of word changes to fit the beat). https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48985/phenomenal-womanng. I obviously in no way own or claim this poem as my own.

+++++++++++

 

It’s lunch and everyone in our group is gathered around our table in the quad, it’s the good table near the line of trees that look over the lower parking lot.  We managed to snag it the first week and now it’s ours, everybody knows that… I mean other than the clueless group of Freshman we are forced to chase away when we arrive with our food.

Our crew is a little different now that Meg doesn’t hang with us as much.  She has her own friends, and we have Beth, who I adore, and also Rosa and Malik who even all together barely start to fill that empty spot, but it’s okay, I know now that that wasn’t what I thought it was, I am mostly mourning the idea of Meg, but it still stings a bit, even after a full summer to start to make up for that shit-show I helped create. 

I can see Meg and her group gathered in the grass on the other side, her eyes slide over our group, settle on Marlon for a moment before going back to her friends.  I see Marlon too, glance over, his eyes finding her while we all settle in to eat.  I feel guilty, but really I'm not sure why anymore, what I did was shitty, but she made her choices.    

It’s a month into Junior year, and we seem to have adjusted, we have our new friends, our stairwell we meet in, our inside jokes, how and where we chill, we’re finding our groove, it will all be okay.

I can be okay with this. This can work.

While we settle, I manage to force the group to listen for a record-breaking  _3 minutes_  to me vent about this science fair bullshit I’m been roped into this weekend because I am too nice and feel sorry for my awesome Physics teacher, but nobody gives a shit about that, and now I’m picking the topping off of a spongey pizza and looking down over the view, not paying attention.  

Without even listening, I can tell you that everyone is talking about music and hookups.  I could leave, come back in a year and they would still be talking music and hookups. Malik and Rosa are a couple, so they don’t ever contribute anything, except to gossip about other people.  The best stories come from Marlon and me, but I am stingy with the details, they think it’s because I respect the privacy of my conquests, when the truth is, there’s nothing to tell.  Beth is a boy-crazy mess, but she has zero game, so the poor thing is 90% comic relief.  When I start paying attention again, she’s talking to us about some guy she was trying (and failing) to pull at the party last weekend, and I know where this is going, “We can’t all be like you, Shay.”  She says.

I smirk and shrug, “What can I say? I’m hot.”  I inform them and pop a cold tater tot into my mouth. They roll their eyes but don’t argue. I’m joking, but also not.  Word around school is that  I’m apparently decent to look at, I'm mostly convinced it's a joke, but it’s been kind of fun to bring it up constantly to annoy my friends.  It’s all ridiculous, it doesn’t matter, I’m still a fucking mess of a human and big ‘ol closeted queer.

My newly recognized “hotness” is a pain in my ass, if I’m being honest. 

A poem comes to mind, it was required reading last year, but I already had it taped to my wall at home long before that.  When I recite a few lines, I know that at least Marlon will remember the reference, “It’s in the reach of my arms, the span of my hips, the stride of my step, the curl of my lips… phenomenal woman, that’s me.”  I brag.

“Did you make that up?” Beth asks.

“Did you fail 10th grade English?” Marlon asks and Beth looks confused and offended.

“No, you’re just kind of a slut.”  Rosa offers, matter-of-factly, and I shoot her a dirty look.  She raises her eyebrows in a challenge, “Do you even remember his name?” Rosa asks.  I don’t blame her, honestly, I know she’s not  _really_  slut-shaming me.  In private she’ll admit she’s jealous, she misses kissing people other than Malik. 

What she  _saw_ last weekend was some guy plastered against me in a dark corner, sucking my neck like a vampire, and later pulling me out the door as if we were going somewhere private to continue.  Seriously where would we even go?  Did she really think I blew him in the backyard?

What she didn’t see was me making excuses to go home early when 5 minutes later he was getting too handsy out by the garden shed.  I didn’t want any of that nonsense.  He’s probably telling people we did more, and I won’t bother to argue, it helps keep my cover.

Do I remember his name? --fuck no, I don't remember his name.  His name was  _Notgonnahappen,_ that’s what his name was, I scoff, “Nah, he knows  _my_ name, that’s what matters.”  I’m being loud, overcompensating, I know this about myself.  Beth high-fives me.

“You’re a fuckboy.”  Malik mumbles.

“Fuck _girl_.” Rosa corrects him.

“Isn’t the word THOT?” Tyler asks.

Everyone laughs, he sounds so basic, “Dude, please, never say that again.” I beg him.

“You should lay that down to a beat.” Marlon suggests.

“What?  Tyler saying THOT?”  Another round of laughter.  Tyler throws a French fry at me.

“No, Phenomenal woman.”  He says.

“What’s that?”  Ty asks, confused.

“The poem?—that she was just reciting?”  Rosa says, her tone pained.  So I guess three of us paid attention in class last year, “Yeah, give her a beat.” She demands.

Tyler immediately starts in with some pathetic beatboxing and everyone laughs again, Malik pounds on the table to help out, and I go ahead and play along.  I make a show of standing up and nodding my head to the beat, feeling it out, putting the poem to the rhythm, switching the words a bit to fit.

“Yeah, yeah, okay… I walk into a room, just as cool as you please, and to a man, the fellows stand or fall down on their knees.” That earns a hoot from my friends, “Uh...,"  I stumble a bit, but pick it up, "Then they swarm around like a hive of honey bees.” I realize I started the poem in the middle and miss a few beats trying to remember the next lines, I get giggles from Rosa, and Tyler’s beat falters and he sarcastically falls over on the table, as if my words were supporting him.

“Focus!”  Malik yells at him like it’s his fault.

The next lines pop into my head, I’m attracting a crowd, that’s fine with me, I like being the center of attention.   I start playing up the lines, work the audience, “Yeah… I say It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet.”  The crowd cheers, “I’m a woman, Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.”  They think I’m done, I’m not, “Hold up hold up! Men themselves have wondered, what they see in me.”  I think to fake flirt with Marlon, last year I would have, but instead, I turn to Tyler, rake my eyes over him and he cringes, but keeps the beat, “They try so much but they can’t touch, my inner mystery.”

Tyler stops long enough to inform me, “I touched your mom’s inner mystery.”

Marlon shoves him and he picks up the beat again, “When I try to show them, they say they still can’t see.  I say, it’s in the arch of my back,”  I let a few beats run between phrases, Beth uses the pause to cat-call me, “The sun of my smile,”  Cheers, “The ride... of... my...  _breasts_ ,”  I say, pulling my hands over my body, that one gets a loud cheer, “The grace of my style. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.”

I get a round of cheers, there’s more to the poem, but I quit while I’m ahead.  I bow to the crowd dramatically.  Marlon gives me a grin, slaps my hand and brings me in for a hug.  The bell is going to ring soon, the crowd breaks up, my friends gather their things, and as I turn my eyes catch on a smile at the next table. 

That’s all I see first, a big bright smile, white teeth, a small gap, full lips, does she have light eyes, blue?-- Green?  no, maybe they're brown. I can’t tell, I can't make myself look at her long enough, but I want to know.  She’s smiling at me, she watched me showing off, and suddenly I’m embarrassed.  She nods to me, brown curls bouncing and my throat closes up.  I flash a tight-lipped smile and turn to get my stuff just as the bell rings.  “Shit, I didn’t finish my French homework!”  Beth is yelling at me.

“Sucks to be you!”  I tell her, but at the same time hand over my notebook for her to copy.

“Shay, you’re fucking awesome.”

“Phenomenal!”  Marlon agrees and hooks his arm around my neck, almost knocking me over.

“Just bring my homework to class.”  I yell back at Beth as Marlon drags me away.

We pass the girl with the curls, she’s watching me back, her eyes are enormous, her mouth quirks into a lop-sided smile and a deep dimple pops in her soft cheek. Holy fuck. My stomach flips.  Why am I like this?  I finally fight myself free from Marlon, only to let him put his arm across my shoulder again as we walk.

I replay lunch all day, I feel like an idiot, why am I so damn extra?  Why do I need so much attention? My mind wanders, and in French, when my name is called and everyone is looking at me expectedly, all I am thinking about is my fingers tangled in soft curls, and pressing my lips into the deep dimpled cheek of some chick I saw for 10 seconds an hour ago.

I feel my face flush and my spine tingle.

“Pardon?”  I manage to say.

She’s more patient with me than she might be with someone else, because I'm a good student?-- because she's been told shit is going down in my life?  Whatever the reason, she simply turns to another student “Patrick?”  She asks, but she says it like  _Patrique,_ which is so pretentious.

He's ready with the answer, “Aux Champs-Elysées, il y a un défilé militaire.” He responds.

Beth catches my eye across the room and pulls her eyebrows questioningly, I just wink at her, give her some finger guns, and she rolls her eyes and looks away.

 

+++++++

  
When the bell rings, Beth is waiting for me outside the door, Tyler leaning against the lockers beside her, attention focused on the game, or meme, or porn, or whatever the fuck he stares at on his phone all day, we probably don't want to know.

"Hey, dickwad."  He mutters.

"Hey."  I answer, watching Beth dig through her locker.

“You okay?”  She asks, and I look up to see them both scowling at me.

“Yeah?”   _What did I miss?_

"I just called you a dickwad and you were all ' _present.''_ "  Tyler says, raising his hand primly, making Beth chuckle.

"Oh,"  I shake my head, "Maybe... tired.” I offer.  Beth is already slamming her locker closed and pulling me in to merge with the rush down the west stairs, Tyler trailing behind us.

She brightens up, “Speaking of, have you talked to Ty's moms yet?” Beth knows a lot, not everything, but a lot about what is happening with me.

“Nope!”  I say, sarcastically matching her excitement.  Honestly, the whole situation makes me wary, I'm scared to ask, what if they say no.

“No more sharing with stinky Tyler, no more crawling in windows, you can have your own bed, maybe you will get some decent sleep.”

I glance at Tyler, as we break through the double doors into the courtyard, but he seems to be ignoring us completely.  I  _may_  have complained to Beth that crashing with him is less than restful, but I feel bad that he might think I was suggesting that it hasn’t been good enough, “I’ve been fine, sharing is fine, I just appreciate…”

“Stop.”  Tyler says, rolling his eyes.  He perches on stair railing forcing our classmates to move around us like we own the damn place.  “It sucks, but it's fine, stop making me reassure you, it's fucking boring.  I'm glad to have your sulky, sorry ass, you practically lived there already, I'm pretty sure you are my moms' favorite child, and they will say yes.”

Beth grimaces, "True, they prefer you to Tyler."  Tyler just nods. "This will be better for you.  You can relax, not have to worry about returning to that craziness."

“If they let me stay.”  I say, and I dislike the anxiety in my voice, I sound vulnerable.

“They will say yes, I have a whole plan... we will finish moving all of Drew's shit out, and you will even have your own room.  They can talk to your dad and it will all be legit. The end.” Beth reassures me, looking to Tyler.  SIlence, " _Right, Ty_?"  He rolls his eyes again.

" _What?_ "  He sighs, frustrated, "I'm busy!-- texting... Marlon... to see where the fuck he is, can I have some peace?"  He's being shady and hides his screen when I try to look.

"The bedroom."  Beth snaps at him.

Tyler lights up, "My brother is going to flip the  _fuck_  out it when he comes home from college and finds his shit set up in the garage."  He says gleefully. 

“I can’t wait to help you decorate! What colors do you want?”  Beth is saying to me, but I'm distracted by a glimpse of brown curls across the courtyard.

“Black like her soul.”  I hear Tyler answer. 

I lose track of what they are saying, just hearing random phrases about bedrooms, and Tyler's moms, and something about pizza.   _It's her._   The girl from lunch, she's skipping down the stairs. 

Those fucking curls, my  _god_. 

As if she can hear my thoughts she looks up at me... or... maybe just my direction.  My heart lurches...  _is_ _she looking at me?_ She looks away as she joins a group of friends.  I see them smile as they greet her, she seems so  _nice._

My view of her is blocked, I blink, disoriented, and realize the person standing before me is the guy from the party, and he's speaking to me, grinning like life is amazing.  

He’s cute and earnest-looking, I instantly regret being alive, “What?"  I say stupidly.

"Hi?"  He says with a breathy laugh.

“Hi…”  um...  _shit_ , _"You_!”  I make up for not knowing his name by sounding excited to see him.  

Beside me, Beth says "Hey, Kyle."   _B_ _less her._

“Kyle.”  I hear myself say before I can stop myself, his smile falters slightly.  I glance at Tyler who is smirking.

"Yeah, Shay...  _Kyle!"_ He says helpfully, nudging me with his elbow.

“So yeah, hey…”  He says, his eyes flashing to Beth.

“We’ll meet you at the car.”  Beth says and vanishes down the stairs, dragging a reluctant Tyler with her.  My fingers grasp the air where her shirt sleeve used to be.

“So… I didn’t get your number..."  Long pause, "... the other night... at the... party.”   Kyle says nervously, he's worried I don't recognize him as the guy who had his tongue down my throat, he's almost right.

“Yeah…”  I hesitate, I am silently working out the statistical probability of the earth opening up and swallowing me whole… it’s not good.

“Or… I can just give you mine…?”  He says.  Poor guy.  I’m such an asshole

“Give me your phone.”  I hear myself say and I hate myself.

He grins and pulls his phone out, swiping his thumb across the screen.  His wallpaper is a yellow lab on the beach with a little girl.  He has a Spotify account and Instagram, Facebook, some sports-related apps, I find his phone icon and enter my name and number and hand it back.

“So…”  He starts.  He says that a lot.

Thankfully Marlon shows up, he looks up from his phone, eyes flicking between Kyle and me, as he realizes he's interrupting something.   I grasp onto his arm desperately before he can move away

“ _Mar!"_   I practically scream, "So, we need to go.'  I tell Kyle, "Our friends are waiting for us.”  I tell him, stepping backward down the stairs, my toe catches and I almost fall to my death.

“Okay, I’ll call?—or text?” He says too loudly.

“Sure.”  I tell him.  He smiles at me and he’s cute, he’s objectively adorable.

_Fuck._

“Great!”  He says.

_Fuck, fuckity fuck fuck._

“Sure.”  I say again and turn to run down the stairs.

I look up at Marlon, "Dude, shut up."  I tell him.

He shakes head, "I wouldn't dare."

In the parking lot, Beth shoots me a look over the top of the car.

“Shut up and unlock my door.” I mumble.

I can't even look at Tyler, I can  _feel_ smugness radiating from him as he leans against the back door.  

“What was it?—the turn of your hips?--- something about your tits?” He asks me.  He'll be milking this for  _years._

“Fuck you, it’s me being phenomenal… it’s a curse.”  I say dramatically,  _I'm a phenomenal fucking fraud, is what I am,_ “Let me in the fucking car.”

Their silence as we back out of her parking place is a bad sign, they are going to wait to embarrass me when there is more of an audience, then it will be all about Kyle and my phenomenal ass or whatever the hell they come up with.  We pull into line to leave the parking lot, I look up from fumbling through Beth's CD case to see a head of curls walking away from us back towards the back fields, green military jacket making her brown hair look auburn in the sun. 

“… he was hot though right?”  Beth asks me, an I realize she's been talking.

“What? Who?  _Kyle_?”  I ask, appalled.

Marlon and Tyler snort in the back seat.

“Andre!”  Beth scoffs at me.   _W_ _ho?_   She looks annoyed, “The guy who brushed me off at the party.”

“Oh… yeah, sure.”  I say, vaguely and Beth sighs, exasperated.

“Help me, Shay, you’re the only girl I know well enough to talk to about this shit... it’s your  _job_  to let me talk about hot boys.” She whines at me.

Help me.

_Help me._

If she only knew how vastly underqualified I am for the job.

_+++++++_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Shay volunteers at the Science Fair. Her choices start to catch up with her, creating some awkward interactions.
> 
> (I'm needy, leave me Kudos and/or comments if you are so motivated... please?)


	3. The kind of thing you'd keep on the D.L.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++++
> 
> "I... I remember you." She smiles at that, and I can feel my face burn, there's no way she can't see it. “I’m mostly here so people can go pee.” I inform her, stupidly.  
> “Well, that is important!” Her smile is bright and open.  
> I can't maintain eye contact. Are we flirting?-- this feel like it might be flirting. What the fuck?
> 
> +++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
> Shay dealt with the consequences of her behavior at the party, her choices to maintain her reputation and stay closeted. She performed a rap at lunch for her friends and regretted showing off when she noticed one particular girl watching her. She is technically homeless, avoiding her family and crashing with friends.
> 
> In this Installment:  
> Shay volunteers at the Science Fair, two people vie for her attention resulting in some awkward interactions.

+++++++

 

If Dante were alive today, he’d add another level of Hell and call it “Manning the Information Booth at the Science Fair with Poonam.”  She hasn’t stopped talking for 45 straight minutes.  The place is pretty dead.  I think that the only people here are the family members of the participants and two suckers stuck running errands and answering ridiculous questions. The squad promised to come visit me, but I haven’t seen them, so I’m spending most of my time on my phone.

_Shay has changed the name of the group to_

_Where my Bros and Hos at?_

_Where the HELL are you guys, help me!_

_You better say you’re on your way, bring a bitch a burger, fuckers!_

_Tyler: sweet talker_

_Marlon:  What’s going on?_

_Beth:  Why is this group asking about Bros and Hos?_

_Beth:  I am neither._

_Tyler:  heheh, Shay’s a sucker!_

_Are any of you coming to see me?_

_Rosa:  Oh shit, I totally forgot!_

_Marlon:  Forgot what?_

_You dicks._

_I hate all of you_

_I’m stranded at Science Fair!_

_you promised you’d come talk to me so I didn’t go crazy._

_Fucking Poonam, dude._

_Malik: I never said I could come._

_Marlon: I forgot, sorry._

_Beth:  Me too!  Sorry, babe!_

_Tyler:  I remembered, I just lied, I had no intention of coming._

_I’m writing you all out of my will._

_Shay has changed the name of the group to_

_You Are All Dead to Me_

“… early admitting to Cornell… but then I might never get to travel because then I know that I’ll have student debt and hopefully a job, but at least interning and then I’ll end up with career and a family and I might be stupid enough to buy a condo or something and maybe a dog.  I like beagles, the look of beagles anyway, but they bark too loud and I don’t know if they are good with kids or other pets and I have a cat…”  Poonam is rambling again.

I take a moment from my group chat to let her know, “I’m pretending I can’t hear you because everything you say is bullshit, Poo-Bear.”

She sighs, exasperated, rather than upset, “Just so you know, I have no problem with you being gay, obviously, but just so you know, I’m not, so… I’m not interested.”

My head snaps up, I scoff, “What… are you…?”

“Yeah. I’m not gay.” She says, pointing at herself.

All I do is sputter then say, “Dude,  _w_ _hat?!”_

“Calm down, wow…” She says, still monotone, “You’re so tense, did you know that stress can cause heart disease, I once read that 67% of Americans report unhealthy levels of stress, Millennials and women score highest in stress levels…”

I hesitate, trying to figure out how I can deny being gay and find out why she thinks so, without sounding like a homophobe.   Responding at all absolutely screams “internalized homophobia” and that’s too real for me right now… a bit too meta for my brain to process. Before I can actually form words, a hand darts in front of my face and I watch it gathering at least one of every informational pamphlet on the table, I look up and my heart lurches momentarily.  It’s the girl from lunch.  She licks her finger and swipes multiple additional copies of several pamphlets, tamping them firmly on the table to stack them properly.  Poonam and I watch her in confusion.  She scowls down at the information for a moment, then smiles at me expectedly.

“Hey, can you give me some information?”  She says, looking at me.

“Eh…” I hear myself say, “I mean, sure, I can try?”

The walkie-talkie suddenly comes to life, scaring the shit out of me.  I can’t for the life of me understand what the hell they say, but Poonam promptly sends me over to the display on earthquakes so Richard can use the can, and I’m forced to leave Curly with Poonam.

My mind is racing.  I can’t see the information booth from where I am sitting, but I don’t need to, because almost immediately, the girl slides up to Richard’s booth.

“What can you tell me about tectonic plates?” She asks, leaning on the table, she looks amused, I don’t think she wants to know about tectonic plates.

I have to force my eyes not to drop to where her collarbones stand out, the curve of her throat above me, “Not a hell of a lot.”  I admit.

“Wow, you’re… not going to win.”  She tells me, frowning.

I can’t not smile, “Yeah… not my booth.”

“What good are you then?”   She scoffs.  I watch her look around, “Is there a booth dedicated to the science of turning 20th-century poetry into rap lyrics?"   _Oh, God, how embarrassing._  I'm not sure how to respond, her smile fades a little, an awkward pause, then, "I... saw you do your Phenomenal Woman rap... at lunch."  She clarifies.

"Yeah, I got that, I... I remember you."  She smiles at that, and I can feel my face burn, there's no way she can't see it.  “I’m mostly here so people can go pee.”  I inform her, stupidly.

“Well, that  _is_  important!”  Her smile is bright and open.

_I can't maintain eye contact. Are we flirting?-- this feel like it might be flirting.  What the fuck?_

Richard returns and I hesitate before stepping from behind the table, “Richard can handle all of your tectonic needs.”  I tell her.

“You keep running away.”  She complains.  I don’t have any idea how to respond to that.  She thankfully turns to Richard, “Will you teach me how the earth moves, Rich?”  She says to him, that dimple popping again, and he blushes brilliantly.  Poor Richard.

The walkie-talkie scrambles to life, eardrum shattering static blaring on my hip, making everyone jump.  It’s all squealing raspy nonsense.

 I look across the room to see Poonam waving me down, “I need to…”  I explain and start to walk away but again, the girl is beside me .

“What  _can_ you tell me about?” She asks, walking beside me, she’s taller than me by a couple of inches, I have to look up at her.

I hesitate, shrug.   _Music, webcomics, video games, physics, black holes, parallel universes…_  “I don’t know.”  I tell her.  _What is wrong with me?_

“Word is you’re pretty smart.” She says.

I feel my nerves instantly on edge, “I’m sure word is that I’m all sorts of things.”  I tell her and feel myself blush,  _I don’t know what I’m doing.  Who is talking about me?  Did she ask about me?_

From across the room, I can see Poonam look between the girl and me, and I don’t want to have to answer the questions I see forming behind her eyes, so I pause halfway across the room.  The girl stops also, her body turning to face me, without even looking, I feel her eyes on me, “Hey, come on.”  She says, finally, ticking her head towards the door.  I watch her as she just walks backward a few steps with a small smile, turns… and  _leaves_ , as if she knows I’ll follow her. 

What fucking nerve!  But then Poonam looks away, distracted, and I am… following the girl, that is.  When I make it out the side door, I already see her going down the stairs towards the retaining wall.  The air is crisp, and my arms are bare, but I've had goosebumps since I looked up and saw her hoarding science fair pamphlets.  I watch her lift herself onto the wall, the heels of her shoes bouncing against the cement.  

I don’t look back before going to sit beside her.  

We’re quiet for a minute, “Do you smoke?” She asks, unexpectedly.

I look over at her, the lights above us are making shadows on her cheeks with her eyelashes, “Yo, you mean like… s _moke_  smoke?”  She nods, eyebrows flashing. “You a narc?” I ask her

She laughs, “Yeah, I’m actually undercover… I work with the Mod Squad.”

“Like Peggy Lipton.”

She smiles bigger, “I’m so glad you didn’t say Claire Danes.”

“Nah.  OG.”

“Good.”   We’re looking at each other now, I’m not sure what this is, I notice this thing she does where she messes up her hair on purpose, shakes the curls loose and flips them to one side or the other.

“You’re new here?”  I ask, but I can’t really make myself look at her, I’m staring at the bushes across from us as I speak.

“Yeah.”

Pause, “Like, how new?”

“Like… 2 months.”

“I haven’t seen you.” I say it too quickly, I feel it betrays what I’m thinking… that I would have noticed her if she’d been here, like she has to somehow be mistaken, there is no way I’ve been walking around the same town and school for 2 months without seeing her.

“I’m a ninja.”  She tells me.

I risk a glance at her and she’s looking at me, “Dude, I don’t think you’re supposed to tell people when you are a ninja.”

“Am I not?  Is it a secret?” Her voice is sweet. She has a little whistle when she says her S’s, probably because of that gap. Gaps and whistled S’s are my new favorite things.

“Seems like the kind of thing that would be more effective if kept on the D.L.”

“Probably.”

“What year?”

“What year am I?”   I nod, “Senior.”

“Oh.”  She doesn’t ask me anything about myself.  I wish she would. We’re quiet again, “So you’re a ninja  _and_  an undercover cop?”

“And I paint.”

“Rad, a true renaissance woman.” She smiles and I wonder if she was kidding about the painting, “Do you really paint?”  My interest is piqued… as if it wasn’t before.

She suddenly seems self-conscious about having told me, “Yeah… that one’s actually true.”  She says, stops mussing her curls, lets them fall around her face. I want to push them back, but I sit on my hands, the cool wet cement biting into my fingers, and watch her bounce the heels of her tennis shoes on the wall, “And you’re… a musician.” She tells me rather than asks.

I wrinkle my nose, bounce my heels too, “Nah, man, I was just fucking around. That’s embarrassing.”

She shrugs, “I liked it.”   _Hair flip._

We are quiet again, “Did you mention smoke?”  I ask, looking up at her, I could use the distraction, both physical and mental if I’m going to survive this.

She grins, “Oh yeah!”  she says and takes an Altoids tin from her pocket.

“Shay?”  I hear and look up to find Kyle coming down the stairs towards us.  The girl puts her Altoids tin back in her pocket.

“Hey!”  I say too brightly.

“Abandoning your post I see.” He says, but he’s smiling.

“My post?”  I ask.

“Yeah, I heard you were working information with Poonam.”

 _Stalker._  

“Uh, yeah… I kind of got talked into it.”  _Go awaaaaay!_

“Don’t you  _have_  to as part of Science Club?”  

“I’m not in Science Club.”  I tell him quickly, glancing at the girl, she needs to know that I’m  _not_ in Science Club.

The girl smirks, “Science Club is cool.”

“Um… no, it’s not.  I’m not in Science Club.” I counter and she has her eyebrows raised.

“Poonam says you’re VP.” Kyle informs me, I’m not sure if he’s joking or if she actually told him that.

“That’s precious.” The girl tells me.

_Precious? What the fuck?_

“No, it’s not, I’m not.  That’s a joke, I’m not.”  I tell them.

“And on Robotics team.” He continues.

 I roll my eyes, “Dude, stop. I’m really not, I’m kind of just… there… Mrs. Waters needed… help…”

“So…”  The girl starts, with a smirk, “Not on the team… but there as a fangirl?  Is that better or worse?”

“Worse.”  Kyle says, smiling, “I like it though.”

 _Oh, God._  Why are they bonding over this?

Kyle glances between the girl and me, I’m expected to introduce them, but I don’t know her name. He finally laughs and holds his hand out to her, “Shay probably forgot my name again, I’m Kyle.”

“I didn’t forget.”  I say weakly.

“Lola.  She says.

“Lola.” I try the name out, gesturing to her like I knew all along, when I look at her she’s fighting a smile.

We’re quiet, awkward.  I  _need_  Kyle to go away.  I glance at Lola and she’s watching me again, her eyes search mine, I hate that the lighting is such shit, I still can’t tell what color they are, I was too panicked to look when we were inside.

“Did I hear you mention smoke?” He says conspiratorially.

_Fuck my life._

Lola stutters a bit, “Uh, yeah, actually, we were just going to…”

“Can I join you?”

Lola looks at me, I think the look on my face probably tells her no, but I don’t blame her when she says, ”Uh, sure.”

She pulls out her tin again and I watch Kyle look around like a groundhog, checking for witnesses.  Where we are, we are protected by the shrubs, sat back from the pathway, and can see in every direction if paying attention, it’s a pretty safe place to do this... if you can say smoking weed on a high school campus is ever  _safe._

Kyle then makes it worse by sitting beside me on the wall, way too close, our thighs pressed together, his eyes on my face, his arm basically behind me.  I see Lola notice and I want to tell her we’re not together.

Lola shakes her hair out, then lights up, and it’s impossible not to watch her lips, her downcast lashes as she watches the flame, the smooth curve of her neck as she tilts her head to the lighter.  She has a small mole behind her ear, I want to kiss it.  I feel myself shiver.

“You cold?”   Kyle asks lowly beside my ear.

Yes. “No, I’m fine.”  I tell him louder, I want no illusion of intimacy between us.

Lola tilts her head back and releases a stream of smoke into the air and the way she and the smoke look under the streetlight is mesmerizing.  She glances over, eyebrows raised, and I realize her hand is held out, offering the joint to me.

I take it, almost burning myself, “Oh, sorry.”  I hear myself mutter and she smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Careful.”  She almost whispers, and I shiver again.

“You sure you’re not cold, Shay?”  Kyle asks me, running his hand over my arm, Lola’s eyes immediately snap to his hand against my skin, and I need Kyle dead right now.

“Dude. I’m fine.”  I say a little harshly and take my hit, it tastes like mint from rolling around in that tin.  I can feel Lola’s eyes on me as I do and I like it, but I also can see Kyle watching my lips and the moment is destroyed. 

This is a risk I would rather have taken when it was just her… when it was worth it.  Getting stoned on school grounds with this beautiful girl and the guy I sucked face with at a party last weekend is not worth it.

I shove the joint over towards Kyle and he takes it from my fingers, practically holding my hand to do so, he glances up the stairs before taking a pull and I take the chance to look over at Lola, she’s still watching me and she smiles easily when I meet her eyes.  I just look back at her, feeling the marijuana already working the knots from the web of my self-preservation…  _I need to write that down_.

Lola and my conversation is done.  Kyle killed it, but he asks Lola some questions and I pocket the information greedily.  I’m surprised to find out that up until now, she lived not too far away, next district, actually, when Kyle asks why they would bother moving one town away, during Senior year, she says simply, “Better district.”   But it feels more complicated than that.

My phone finally buzzes and I pull it out, a text from Poonam,  _Where are you?_ I must make a face or something because Lola interrupts whatever Kyle is saying to ask, “Bad news?”

I think of saying no, putting my phone back into my pocket, just ignoring it, but I’ll feel guilty if I do, also I feel like I need to end this trio even if it means leaving Lola.  I’ve taken a hit from the joint, the smoke comes curling out with my words, like the Hookah Smoking Caterpillar,  _Whooo Arrrre Youuuu?_    _What was the question?_

 _Oh, right…_  “Poonam has noticed I’m M.I.A.” I tell them, trying to stay on subject.  That is some strong weed.

“Ignore it, go rogue.”  Lola suggests.

“Yeah, stay with us.”  Kyle says nodding enthusiastically, Lola’s eyes flit to him, and she looks mildly annoyed.

I sigh, “I should go, I can’t be shitty.”

“How are you getting home?”  Kyle asks.  Lola stills beside me, her eyebrows dip in a scowl.

“Um… bus.”  I say, standing, I’m wobbly on my feet and Lola reaches out a hand to steady me, but never actually touches me.

“Careful now.”  She says again.

“Strong stuff.”  I tell her and she winks.   _Winks!_

“I can drive you.”  Kyle is saying.

“What?” I ask, even though I heard him.

Lola silently tamps the joint out a little more firmly than necessary on the cement wall and puts the roach in her Altoids tin, offers me a mint.  Kyle reaches past me to take one for himself, “I can drive you home.”  He says.

“Nah, that’s okay, thanks Kyle.” The mints are smart, help cover the smell and taste. I roll it around, enjoying the feel of it, how it clicks against my teeth, I forget about anything else for an amount of time that I’m not sure of.  That was seriously strong weed.

“I mean, I’m here anyway, my sister has a booth, I have to wait to drive her home.” Kyle explains

 _Over-eager bastard._  “It’s to the east.”

“Perfect!” He says.

I look to Lola, she nudges her thumb over her shoulder, “’I’m… west.”  She tells me.

I sigh.  “Maybe, Kyle.”  I should have lied and said I have ride.

“Awesome!”  He says, way too enthusiastically, he has no chill.

“So…I should get back inside.”

“Can… I get your number?”  Lola asks, and my brain fizzles.

“Yes.” I say too quickly and she smiles and hands me her phone.  Her wallpaper is the façade of a building that looks like a surprised face, no social networking apps can be seen.  I put my number in under Shay the Rap Star and regret it as soon as I push save.

She takes her phone and immediately looks through her contacts, grinning at her screen, “Awesome.”

“Okay… well…” I say awkwardly.

“Well.”  She says happily. This girl is nothing but smiles, she’s a freaking ray of sunshine, and she holds eye contact way too easily.  I feel like not only can she can see all of my secrets, but she’s excited to know me in spite of them.  It’s terrifying.

“I’ll talk to you later.” I say lamely and turn and start heading up the stairs, Kyle follows me.  At the door my phone buzzes and I look down to see a message from an unknown number.

_It was nice to meet you, Shay.  Now you have my number, too.  I hope you use it.  :) xx Lola_

I can’t help but smile.  I look back and I can see her walking down the stairs towards the back lot.  I save the number under simply “Lola."

 

+++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Tyler's acting suspiciously and Shay is feeling left out. She's being ghosted, and is scared of addressing her precarious housing situation out of fear of losing what little stability she has left. Witnessing the dynamics of Tyler's hectic but loving and supportive family reminds her of everything she doesn't have.
> 
> Leave me some comments or Kudos if you liked this at all.  
> love you guys!


	4. You too, Shay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++++
> 
> Watching a parent give a shit what their child is doing, the way she listens to him talk about the band, the rare times he mentions some guy he has the hots for. It’s like being invited to witness some exotic mysterious cultural ritual. She then turns it on me and Jennifer pulls my hoodie strings from my mouth and I let her, then she is touching my hoop earring, I can’t help the way I freeze up, “You look so nice, Shay, that lipstick is lovely on you.”
> 
> +++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously:  
> Shay got Lola's name and her number. Shay's been crawling in and out Tyler's window all summer, and he's pressuring her to come clean about it, in the hopes that both of their sets of parents will agree to make her staying there legit. Shay is putting a ridiculous amount of energy into keeping her secrets.
> 
> In this installment :)  
> Tyler's acting sketch and Shay is feeling left out. She's being ghosted by her crush, and is scared of addressing her precarious housing situation out of fear of losing what little stability she has left. Witnessing the dynamics of Tyler's hectic but loving and supportive family feels foreign and bizarre.

+++++++++++++

_YeeTy_

_10:32 pm_

_I’m by your window, lemme in_

_Also stop fucking changing your name in my phone_

 

I tiptoe through the yard, using my phone as a flashlight against the dogshit, and step beside Tyler’s window, it takes me a moment to realize it’s dark inside.  He’s never asleep this early.  I lift my fist to knock but drop it again, he hates when I knock, it scares the shit out of him, so I try texting again.

 

_Wake up jackass, it’s cold out here._

I stand quietly, my breath fogs the air.  I wait for my phone to go dark and wake it up to text again.

 

_Your neighbor’s dog is going to lose his shit soon, let me in._

As if on cue, I hear the distinct sound of the dog barking in the neighbor’s house.  I try to open Tyler’s window, it’s open, so I climb inside.  “Tyler, you better not be spanking it, because you have a guest.” I joke, keeping my voice low, but as soon as I get my footing, I realize his bed is empty except for his tangle of blankets.  The dog starts barking, so I quickly close the window and curtain and pull my phone out again.

 

_Well, B &E is now on my rap sheet, it seems._

_I’m here but you’re not, where tf are you?_

I take off my coat and find my bag in the back of his closet.  I change into sweats and make sure all of my stuff is packed up and hidden in the closet again.  I plug my phone in to charge and lay back on Tyler’s bed.  I check my texts to him and notice they are still on  _unread,_ which is sketch as fuck because Tyler is addicted to his damn phone.  I scan up our texts from earlier:

 

_4:10 pm  Want to have dinner at my place?_

_I’m at Beth’s we’re getting pizza,_

_I might crash there, we have a French paper._

I hadn’t thought to inform him when I decided to stay at his house instead, hadn’t thought I needed to.  Since when does he go somewhere without me with him, let alone without telling me.  I browse my messages, skipping over the ones from my mother.  I open the text thread to Lola, just to torture myself.  One week and three hours ago she texted me:

 

_It was nice to meet you, Shay.  Now you have my number, too.  I hope you use it.  :) xx Lola_

 

I had carefully drafted a response over the next 24 hours and the next night responded:

 

_Hey, I’m using your number, like you said :)_

I sent it, feeling fairly confident, in spite of the butterflies in my stomach.  I watched it click over to read and waited for the bubbles.  No bubbles. 

No fucking bubbles for the next one… five… ten… thirty minutes.

 _Fuck_.

I had read back my text, was my tone not clear?  Did I come across as harsh and uninterested instead of funny?  Did the smiley not translate that I was playing?  My thumbs had hovered. 

She was just busy. It was fine.

But that was six days ago and still no bubbles.

I hear movement in the hall and freeze, nobody has ever come into his room without knocking and being invited in, they’re all weirdly respectful like that, but I’m always tense.  It’s been months since I've lived at my mom's house, but I’m used to having to lock my bedroom door to prevent people from walking in whenever the fuck they feel like it, and more often than not, that didn't even stop them.  I hear their front door open and close, Tyler and his mothers speaking indistinctly.  I wait silently, straining to hear their conversation, but I can’t.

My chest tightens in anticipation as I hear someone approach the door.

“Okay, thanks.”  Tyler says right outside.

His mother’s voice mumbles from the living room.

“Yeah, I know...  I love you too, goodnight.” Tyler says and his door opens. 

In one fluid movement, he comes inside. shuts his door, drops his bag, and turns on his light.  I briefly see him smiling to himself before he meets my eyes and promptly falls back against his door in fright.

“Shit… fucking shit, Shay.”  He gasps, clasping at his chest.  I can’t help but laugh, clasping my hand over my mouth to stay silent.

“What are you doing here?”  He hisses at me, still trying to recover.

“Change of plans… what  _weren’t_  you doing here?” I tease.

“I was out. Not everything includes you.”  He says, and his tone is surprisingly sharp. 

“I know!”  I mumble defensively, but then find myself and frown, “No, fuck that, since when does everything not include me?”

He rolls his eyes and starts getting changed, kicking his jeans into the corner of the room, “Since now.” He tells me and busies himself sniffing his sweatshirt.  I can smell cigarette smoke and weed from here, he glances at me and lays his sweatshirt over the back of his chair.  The decision is purposeful and I find myself glaring at the sweatshirt… it knows secrets.

I watch him turn his back to me to change his shirt, the one he was wearing is thrown onto the floor and I look to the sweatshirt again, suspiciously.  I look back in time to see him pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, “Where were you?” I ask.  He turns off the light and it’s dark for a moment as my eyes adjust.

“Nowhere, dickhead, it’s nice there.”  He approaches the bed, “Shove over.”  I do and lay back, into his pillows. Watching him climb in beside me, he has his back to me.

“Everything okay?”  I ask warily.

“Yeah, Jesus!”  He snaps again and I feel myself flinch, I can see his silhouette shift as he sighs, when he speaks his voice is gentler, “Everything is fine, Shay, fuck off to sleep, we have work in the morning.”

I’m awake, watching his dark figure beside me for a while, and can hear when his breathing evens out and he’s asleep. 

I’m awake an hour later when I hear his moms pass the door, switching off the hall light, speaking lowly to each other, and closing doors, and the whole house is silent.

I’m awake as the sun peaks over the horizon outside.

 

+++++

 

I’m sitting cross-legged on Tyler’s bed flipping through his Walking Dead graphic novels, listening to the crazy inhumane ruckus of his family outside his door and watching him get ready.  I’m still mulling over the mystery of last night, but he’s in a good mood, so I don’t press the issue.  He’s cuffing his pants over flowered socks, “Queer culture is cuffing your pants.” I quote the meme. 

“Fuck yeah, it is.”   He tells me proudly.  I hear his sister screaming obscenities at someone just beyond the door, one of his mothers screaming at her in response, but Tyler doesn’t even blink, he just stands and looks in the mirror, fixing his hair. He makes eye contact with my reflection, “You look tired.”  He tells me, his tone disapproving.

“Screw you, I’m gorgeous… it’s a bookstore, not prom.”  I point out, trying not to be offended.

He smirks and quirks an eyebrow unimpressed.

“What? Jesus, you know I don’t sleep.”

“You just look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”  I snark.

“Just, like… pull it together, yeah?  Fern thinks you’re fly, live up to Fern standards, they aren’t all that.”  Tyler says to me out of seemingly nowhere.  He’s not looking at me and I’m grateful because I instantly blush.

“Sounds fake, but okay.”  I mutter looking back at the book between my knees.

“She does, she thinks you’re a babe.”

“Too bad for her… I’m already busy being ghosted by someone right now.”  I confess, desperate to change the subject but I instantly regret it because his eyes snap to me.

“ _You’re_  being ghosted?—by whom?”

I shrug, “Doesn’t matter.”

His eyes narrow, “Guys never ghost you, you ghost  _them_.”

I feel myself hesitate, and cover with some heavy sarcasm, “I know, I’m in shock, that’s what I’m saying.” I tell him, “Must be my failure to meet basic Fern standards.” 

He sighs, rolls his eyes, “Even on zero sleep and on your shittiest day, I’d totally do you… you know… if I was into that sort of thing.”

“Ew.” I mumble and go back to my book.

“Is this something that actually, like… matters to you?-- This guy ghosting you?”  He asks his voice serious enough to make me look up again.

I make a show of expressing my apathy, snorting and rolling my eyes, “Nah, of course not, it’s just weird.”  He holds my eye contact for a moment and my skin is crawling under his gaze, I'm about to cave. 

There is a crash in the hallway, followed by their dog barking.  Tyler simply turns and grabs his sweatshirt, I don’t miss the way he quickly sniffs it, “At the party tonight,”  He begins, “Forget that guy, find someone better… invite Fern…”  He says throwing me a little smirk, I ignore him and he sighs, “There will be people there.”

“People?-- At a party?”  I gasp, amazed.

“Fuck you, dickweed, I mean like… people, to meet.”

I fall back on the bed, open up Lola’s text thread again. No bubbles. “I’m tired of  _people._ ”

"Invite Fern, then."  He says again.

"Because she's not  _people?"_ He is looking straight into my soul, "Me inviting Fern is... unlikely." I assure him.

"Nobody you know will be there, just trust me, invite her."

I scowl at him, this is news to me, "Whose party is this?"

He sighs, "Fucking trust me."  I am prepared to push the issue but he cuts me off, "The outfit and boots aren’t completely repellant.” He concedes.

I sit up, running my hands over my shirt, “Becca loaned me the clothes yesterday.”  I tell him quickly, feeling self-conscious, I have on black skinny jeans and a red button up blouse, she made me promise to leave the top buttons open and I’m wary of the cleavage I’m suddenly in possession of, “Do I look stupid?” I gesture to my cleavage " _This_  is more than I’m used to."  

He snickers at me, "Stop making me acknowledge your tits please."  He shrugs, “My sister dressed you and you  _don’t_ look like a street walker... so....”  He says.

Being told he'd  _do me_  if he didn't dislike vagina and that I  _don't_  resemble a streetwalker is the closest thing to a compliment I’m ever going to get from him.  I kick my feet out, showing the black boots, “They are a little big.”

“That’s because you’re a wee Hobbit.”  His insults are so casual, he doesn’t even look at me, he’s posing for himself in the mirror, puckers his lips, flirting with his own reflection.

He spins suddenly and throws his window open, “Go.” He orders and I just look at the blue sky and green bushes beyond the curtains.  I just want to use the front door like I belong there.

“Go pick up your hot date.”  He says and throws my sweatshirt at me.  I groan.

“Why are we doing this?”  I ask again. 

“It will be funny, now scoot your fat ass out the window and shimmy down that drainpipe.”

“You’re on the ground floor, stupid.”  I say, but I’m still climbing out his window into the bushes which stab me in the knee, making me stumble.  The window slams shut behind me, barely missing my fingers, and he yanks the curtain shut, leaving me in the quiet of his side yard. 

My phone buzzes in the butt pocket of my jeans, and I can’t help the bump of my heart as I rush to pull it out.  Would she actually  _call_ me?  I read the name and quickly press ignore.  I’ve ignored fifteen calls from my mother since yesterday, that’s more than usual, something might be actually wrong, I should answer, but I don’t.

I make my way around the end of the house.  The bullshit Tyler talks me into I swear.  I find myself on his porch, I sigh and knock, there is chaos inside the house, Emma’s dog Pepper is barking through the mail slot and there are heavy footsteps, “Jesus fucking Christ, can we put shoes against the wall at least?” Tyler’s mom is swearing, “Em, get Pepper!” She bellows, then the door is open. 

Jennifer stands there, pale and blonde and pretty, even her frown is pretty, “Shay, sweetie, did you walk here?”  She doesn’t wait for an answer, “You don’t have to knock.”  She tells me, just like she always does.  As many times as she reminds me that, though, I can’t make myself just walk in, part of the reason might be that it feels nice to hear her say it. Tyler’s other mom Rachel is walking by with a laundry basket, always on her way to somewhere else.  Rae looks more like me.  I could easily blend in with her two kids and I'd just look like part of their family.

I clear my throat, “Hey, Jenn, hi, Rae I’m here for my hot date with your idiotic gay son.” I tell them, adlibbing the scenario Tyler insisted would be so hilarious.  Children are screaming in the other room and Rae goes on her way, picking up stray socks from the hall floor, completely unsurprised. 

“It’s not even noon.”  Jenn says to me, like the time is the biggest problem with this scenario.

Jenn frowns again and I just shrug, “I don’t know Jenn, I just do as I’m told."

  
Tyler appears then, throwing himself against the doorway of the hall, posing dramatically.  He is wearing a long white beard. “I’m ready.”  Everyone hesitates, looking at him, “Get it?—Beard?”  He prompts, obviously disappointed in their lack of reaction “Get it?  because… gay… like super gay?  She’s my  _beard_ …  _beard_ get it?“  He says, then adds, “Nudge nudge?—wink wink?”

“You’re not serious.” She says.

He sighs, “Jesus, no mom.”

It weirds me out that he can talk so openly about being gay to his family, that he jokes about it and their reaction is such a non-reaction.  It feels almost like they don’t quite understand, like there should be some discomfort or concern, instead she says, “Did you actually go into the attic just to find a prop for that joke?”

He droops, like a wilted flower, “I thought it was worth it.  I was wrong, obviously.  My work is so unappreciated."  He sounds so disappointed that Jenn actually gives him a pitying look.

“You better put that back in the Christmas box.” Rae warns, swooping through the room again.

“I actually found it in the Hanukkah box.” He says, dropping it on the entry table on top of the piles of mail and unfinished homework, random bottlecaps, rocks, matchbox cars, McDonald’s toys, scraps of paper, and art projects… all of the crap their 200 children have left there, dug from their pockets and the bowels of their school bags.  I know the beard will be there for days if not weeks.  It’s just how their house is. “Remember, I dressed Josh up like God last year.”  He cackles, “My grandma didn’t think it was funny.”  He explains to me.

“Can’t imagine why.” I offer and Jenn looks at me like,  _right?_

“How have you been, hon?”  She asks me, her eye contact feels like love and I flush.  Moms…  _these_  kinds of moms, anyway… my God, how do they do that?

“I’m okay.” I manage to tell her.

“Everybody okay?”  She presses, her voice bright, but she’s alluding to heavy shit.

I just shrug and smile, “Everything is awesome.”  I lie.  Tyler looks exasperated at my bullshit but keeps silent.  He wants me to come clean, I’m not ready, there’s too much at stake.  I’m like Schrödinger's street urchin, both with and without a home until someone opens that box and finds out for sure.Nobody has to know how much I have invested in this.  Too much, I know it’s too much, I can't open that box yet. 

Jenn turns to Tyler, “So after work you're going straight out?” 

“Yep.”  He confirms.

“Where is this party again?”  she asks, fixing the drawstrings on Tyler’s hoody so they are even.  He doesn’t even acknowledge her grooming him as he reaches for the car keys.  I can’t help but gobble up shit like that, the way other people’s parents… parent.  I chew on my own hoody strings and watch them interact.  Watch how Jenn asks where we are going, the way she moves a strand of Tyler’s hair, ignoring the exasperated sigh he gives her in response to her questioning.

_Where?_

_What?_

_Who?_

_When?_

_Is_   _his hoody warm enough_? 

_Does he have enough money for gas?_

_For a cab if he drinks?_

_But don’t drink…_

_But if you do…_

_Call if you need us to come get you, promise I won't yell or lecture until tomorrow._

“You too Shay.”

 

You.

Too.

Shay.

 

Me too. 

Watching a parent give a shit what their child is doing, the way she listens to him talk about the band, the rare times he mentions some guy he has the hots for.  It’s like being invited to witness some exotic mysterious cultural ritual. 

She then turns it on me and Jennifer pulls my hoodie strings from my mouth and I let her, then she is touching my hoop earring, I can’t help the way I freeze up, “You look so nice, Shay, that lipstick is lovely on you.” 

“I don’t look stupid?”  I ask.  I regret the question, I sound needy and exposed, but I  _am_  needy.

She looks surprised, “No, you look beautiful.”  She says to me, and now she’s just a liar.  I’ve heard  _cute_  before, and  _hot_  is a recent one that is just hilarious, and I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a joke or insult, but beautiful is purely ridiculous.  I hear Meg’s voice all that time ago  _extremely beautiful and insanely cool._ Liar, she just wanted something from me, what does Jenn want? Despite my skepticism, I feel myself blush. She is nice enough to pretend she doesn’t notice and pulls me in for a hug. 

They do that a lot, especially Jennifer and Emma, they are the huggers in the family, and I try to play along because I do like it, but it feels so awkward to me.  I have sometimes gone months without touching anyone other than the jostling playful jabs of elbows and daps from the boys, and I don’t really know how to do the whole hugging thing, so I just let her do it and wait for it to be done… smell her shampoo and feel her arms tight around me, remind myself it’s a nice thing, try not to panic and hope that she knows I don’t hate it, even though it probably feels to her like I do.  I think back to hugging Meg and feel embarrassed as I usually do when she comes to mind.  Shove it all back down again and awkwardly look at my shoes when Jennifer pulls away.

“Home by midnight, Tyler.” She says to him, then to both of us, "Behave yourselves, call me if you are late, make good choices.” 

“It’s a dealy, yo.”  I tell her with a salute, she smiles and Tyler scoffs at me, disgusted.  I’ll promise her anything if she keeps including me like this.  I‘m hungry for it, embarrassingly so.

“Kiss ass.”  Tyler snarks at me as soon as the door closes behind us.

Maybe, but she said  _me too_.

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> Someone unexpected shows up while Shay waits to get picked up from work. Tyler continues behaving suspiciously. Shay skips a party but spends some intense quality time with a pretty girl, some grilled cheese sandwiches, and some coloring books. Shay finally speaks to her father.


	5. Move, like a starling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++++
> 
> We are quiet, there is a murmuration of starlings not far away, a larger bird, maybe a crow is divebombing them and they break up and then come back together again in a swirling cloud, they look like a single living thing. Swelling and shrinking like a breath. Figure-eights. Like moving to music.
> 
> Lola exhales, the air sweet between us.
> 
> I’m happy.
> 
> “Tell me about something I don’t know,” Lola says seemingly out of nowhere. 
> 
> “What?” I'm a little startled, feeling as if she's read my mind. 
> 
> +++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Tyler was acting sketch and Shay was feeling left out. She's was being ghosted by her crush, and was scared of addressing her precarious housing situation out of fear of losing what little stability she had left. Witnessing the dynamics of Tyler's hectic but loving and supportive family left her feeling alone and out of touch.
> 
> In this installment: Someone unexpected shows up while Shay waits for Tyler to pick her up from work. Tyler continues behaving suspiciously. Shay skips a party but spends some intense quality time with a pretty girl, some grilled cheese sandwiches, and some coloring books. Shay finally speaks to her father.

+++++

 

Tyler’s _car_  is named Angelica (of Rugrats fame) due to her temperament.  Angelica is a 1995 Honda Civic that belongs to all of the kids of the Nunez-Peterson household. Both Ty and Emma are old enough to drive right now, so have to share it and are obligated to run errands and ship their siblings all over Hell and back whenever Jenn and Rae ask them to.  That might sound like a shit deal, but I have no car at all, and also, that is one less person than last year when his older brother Drew still lived at home, and one less than next year when Becca will join the world of licensed drivers, so it seems pretty sweet to me.

Drew was gifted a newer model car as a graduation present by Jenn's ex-husband, and birth father to him and Tyler.  He took that new car with him to college when he left last August.  Tyler is pretty fucking excited about the prospect of that happening next year when he leaves also, ignoring the fact that his birth father is kind of a prick to him and there will probably be no car.  I’m not going to crap on his hopes though… I mean there’s the slightest possibility and he’s clinging to that.  I don’t blame him, nobody is buying me shit for anything and I have no idea if I’m going to college.  There are more immediate concerns, anyway, such as if I’m going to be able to sneak into Tyler’s tonight, and also making it through a six-hour shift and another fucking party on zero sleep.  Even more immediate, I want to avoid having my foot go through that weak spot in Angelica’s floor and having it ripped off on the Northbound I-35.

The car smells like fast food, exhaust, and mold, it is also full of sports equipment, books, toys, and other assorted kid mess, I shove the shit onto the floor as usual and make myself comfortable.  The speaker doesn’t work, but he has a Bluetooth speaker Velcroed to the dash and I go ahead and run a preapproved Spotify playlist through it.  It seems that this week Tyler is vetoing all music that isn’t fucking dubstep or house, last week he was devoted to 90's hiphop, his music moods get exhausting, but I’m just glad to have music at all.  That’s me to a T, go-with-the-flow-Shay.

Tyler yells over the music, “So will you invite Fern?”

I turn my phone down and he responds by turning the speaker back up, he’d rather yell it seems, “Not likely,”  I yell at him.

“Shay…,”  he whines, “trust me please.”

“Tyler, you know I can’t just..."

He sighs, “Shit Shay, trust me.” His tone tells me he's trying to communicate something more, so I watch him as he watches the road.  He's weaving through traffic, purposely pretending he can’t see me staring at him.  I open my mouth again, but he snatches my phone from me to turn the volume back up. 

I snatch it back, "Eyes on the road, asshole,"  I snap at him.  His body language tells me this conversation is done, anyway, so I go ahead and turn the volume back up.  The bass makes the ketchup packets on the dashboard vibrate.

 

 +++++

 

It's only a 15-minute drive to the small used bookstore and café near the high school that I managed to snag a job at (with Rachel’s help).  Tyler works another 15 minutes north at the movie theater.  He yanks the car to the curb, the front tire riding up over the edge and back down again with a painful grind of metal hubcaps against cement, “I’ll be here at 8,” he tells me, “fucking invite Fern!”

My heart sinks, “I get off at 6, though!”

“Too fuckin bad, I don’t actually start until 3, if I have to entertain myself for two hours just so I can drive your ass to work, you can keep yourself busy for two hours until I can pick you up.  Suck it up, buttercup.”

I try not to sigh, but fail, “Fine.”

“Fine?”  he has his eyebrows pulled up practically into his hairline.

I roll my eyes, “I mean, thank you Tyler,” my sarcasm is sugar sweet.

“For…,” he prompts.

“… for the ride…. you raging douchebag.”

“You’re welcome.  Get the fuck out,” he orders.  I am barely out, the door just latched shut when he tears away into traffic, causing an oncoming car to veer to the left and screech on its brakes.  They lay on the horn as Tyler rumbles off down the street in a haze of exhaust.

 

The bell above the door chimes as I enter, and I am hit with the smell of old paper and coffee.  Fern is at the front counter, her red hair wild as usual, “Hi, Shay,” she says brightly, “you look really nice!”

I mumble my thanks and make my way to the back of the store, passing the coffee counter, “Hey, Shay-Z,"  Marcus calls to me, too peppy as usual.

“You dabbling in your product again, Marc?” I ask him, he just grins crazily at me and goes back to energetically cleaning the espresso machine.  I drop my stuff in the back and clock in, then bring my school work with me to the front.

As soon as I arrive Fern gives me a little smile, “Isn't it, like, weirdly cold?" she asks.

"Fuckin' freezing for Austin," I agree.

She's quiet for a moment while I organize the morning receipts, "Well, I’m going to go… stock shelves,” she says awkwardly.

I glance up at her, her little backward glance at me makes my neck burn, Tyler might actually be right, I text and tell him as much.

He responds by telling me, " _No shit, invite her to the party.”_

I watch Fern sorting books in the mystery section, she catches my eye, looks surprised, then smiles before going back to her books, “Hey, Fern?” I call.

“Yeah?”  she perks up.

She does have a pretty smile.

"Would..." I freeze up, “would… when you’re done, would you come watch the register so I can go check the donation box?”

“Okay,” she chirps and goes back to shelving.

_Well, fuck._

+++++

 

It’s a slow day, the time drags, I get all of the closing tasks done while we are still open, I’m bored out of my mind, and it’s made even worse by the fact that I can’t make myself invite Fern to go out with us.  I’m not asking her on a date, just to go to a party with Tyler and myself… that’s not a huge deal, it shouldn’t be that hard.

The bell over the door chimes and I glance at the clock, five minutes until closing, I look back at the two women who have entered the store, they are young, college-age I would guess, wrapped in scarves, cheeks red from the cold air outside, “Hi, just so you know we’re closing soon,” I tell them, trying to sound polite.

The blonde smiles, “That’s fine we know what we’re looking for,” she says.

I watch as the brunette throws me a smile, then walks ahead and I see their arms stretch between them as she drags the blonde behind her, their hands clasped.  They slide down the fiction aisle and the brunette scans the shelves.  I'm trying not to stare, they'll think I'm some crazy homophobe when really I'm just in awe of them.  They are talking lowly and the blonde laughs and leans into her girlfriend when she pulls her close, they press their mouths together in a sweet kiss, their foreheads close as they cuddle in the aisle.

“Hey, Shay?” I hear behind me and nearly jump out of my skin. 

Fern is standing behind me, “Yeah, Fern?” 

“Closing is practically done, and I promised my mom I’d pick up my brother from his friend's house, would it be cool with you if I took off a few minutes early?”

“Sure, want me to clock you out?”  I offer and she grins.

“Would you?  That would be so nice of you!” she says as if I've offered her a kidney.   Fern vanishes into the back room and I watch the couple find the book they were looking for and bring it to me, they only let go of each other when the brunette needs to pay.  I tell them to have a nice day and they say their goodbyes and curl against each other as soon as they are out the door.

I nearly miss Fern on their heels until she calls to me, “Bye Shay, you work on Monday?”

“Uh, yeah… hey, Fern?” I say maybe a little too loudly and she pauses halfway out the door, looking back at me expectantly.   I chew on my lip a moment.   _Just fucking do it._  “Tyler is taking me to some party tonight, I know nothing about it… but… would you want to go with us?”

Her face lights up, “Yeah! Sure, yeah I do! Okay!” she tells me.

Fear blooms inside my chest, “Okay.  Cool.”   _Holy shit._

“So…,”  Her eyes dart a bit, awkwardly, “Where… is it?  When?”

“Oh, yeah that would be good to know, right?" she grins at me in response, "But, I literally have no idea, Tyler is picking me up at 8, so… I could text you the address?” I offer.

“Sounds cool, yeah!  Looking forward to it!”

“Awesome.”

“Awesome!” she agrees and her smile is bright, “You have my number.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“Awesome.”

“Awesome.”

“Okay, see you in a bit then!” she says and finally leaves and I collapse against the counter.

“Smooth,” I hear from across the room and look up to see Marcus closing up the café.

“What?  Fuck off, Marc,” I sigh, feeling my face burn, and he laughs.

 

+++++

 

I should not have shut down early because it is now 6:03 pm and I am standing on the sidewalk outside of my place of employment with nearly two hours before I have anywhere to go.  I don’t even have any homework left to do.

My stomach growls and I run through my head what is close, still open, and cheap enough that I might get something to eat.  The answer is:  Nothing, save for the convenience store on the corner.   Everything fast food is about a mile in the other direction and I do not want to walk that far.  I hitch my bag over my shoulder and head down to the store.

+++++

 

I end up with a bag of Doritos and an ice tea and park my ass at the filthy cold picnic table outside of the convenience store.  I settle in with my headphones and pull out my notebook to work on some writing.  The task is pointless, my writing is crap lately and ultimately embarrassing, nothing but corny shit about eyes and lips and curly hair.  I don’t even have the nerve to use the right pronouns, everything I write is in hetero code which is just fucking depressing.

Nobody is ever going to read my shit, I’ll never perform any of it, but just in case it ever gets into the wrong hands, I need to be able to lie without even being there.  The thought makes me want to burn my notebook.  It makes me want to burn the whole shitty world down.

_Lola._

I write an L in the corner of my notebook and trace it over and over, making it thicker, heavier, pressing it into the paper like I’m angry at it.  I'm pressing my pen into the paper like I can hate it into being something more. 

I invited Fern to the party.  I don’t know what it means, what will happen, but it’s something.  I can pretend it’s something.  Pretend it means that I can be brave.

I can feel the weight of my phone in my pocket and think of everything it contains.  Fern’s phone number which I will soon use to send her the address. I think of Lola’s phone number of the unanswered text I sent her.  I pull out my phone and open my contacts.  My thumb stumbles a bit when I press call, then I can hear my own breathing, the distant echoing silence before that first ring when I can still hang up.  My hand twitches against the phone but then it rings and my heart flutters.

It rings again.  I could hang up, sure, there is caller ID though.

It rings again.

I flinch at the voice that answers, but it's just the voicemail, it's automated, and tells me that the number is not answering please leave a message after the tone. 

The tone.

“Hey, dad, it’s me… Shay.”   _Now what?_  “Dad… I wanted to talk to you about what’s going on with mom.  I… I’m not… I don’t think I can stay here anymore, I don’t want to stay here anymore… but listen… um… a friend’s family might let me stay with them to finish the school year, I think they would let me if you allowed it.”  I sound weak, I take a breath, steady my voice, “This is really what I want,” I tell the voicemail, proud of myself for managing to sound confident, “so call me back so we can talk about it.”

I hang up quickly before his answering service can ask me if I want to delete and record a new message.  I then stare at my phone in my hand and try not to panic. 

I did it.

_Oh shit, what did I just do?_

Panic clogs my throat.

I made The Move, it can all collapse now.  I’m opening the box.

“Shay?” the voice beside me is surprised sounding.  I look up and am met with wide brown eyes, soft auburn curls, that green army coat, and a rainbow knit scarf. 

_Lola._

She grins at me, “Wow, hi!” she says like I’m a long-lost friend.

I feel sick.

“Hi!” I say too enthusiastically.   _No fucking chill_.

“Wow, hi, how are you? What… I’ve never seen you around here,” she stumbles over her words.

“I work down at the bookstore," I tell her, gesturing vaguely down the street and she turns to look even though it’s not visible, before looking back to me, “I’m waiting for my friend to pick me up.”

She runs her eyes over the table, my chips, my tea, my notebook, I quickly close it and rest my forearm against the cover.  It’s obvious and awkward, but she doesn’t say anything about it, instead, she says, “How long do you have to wait?”

“Oh… um… until 8?” I tell her warily, aware that it is a long wait and that normal people will be motivated to comment on that.

Of course, she is  _normal people_  because she scowls, “It’s only like… 6.”

I slouch a bit, I should have just said  _not long_ , “It’s fine.”

“It’s fucking cold,” she argues.  She looks back at my chips and tea, “Is this your dinner?” her voice tells me she already knows the answer.

I look down at my sad dinner, I’m broke as fuck, I’m not telling  _her_  that though, before I can lie she rolls her eyes, “Okay, I came here for bread, then you’re coming home with me, I live just down the street, you can warm up, eat some dinner, wait for your ride.  Okay? Okay,” she says and then vanishes into the convenience store. 

I watch her wave at the clerk, make her way down the aisle, snagging a bag of white bread.  It suddenly sinks in what is happening.  I’m going to her  _house._  Wait,  _what?_

_Oh, my god._

“Ready? Let’s go,” she says from beside me and starts walking, taking three steps backward before spinning and leaving me behind, again trusting that I will follow her… which I do, Goddammit. Because I’m broken, evidently.  I scramble to grab everything from the tabletop and chase after her like a loser.

I catch up with her and she smiles easily at me, swinging the loaf of bread between us.

I’m going to her house, she’s going to make me food and I will stay there until Tyler comes to get me… in  _two hours_.

Lola is talking beside me and I’m not listening, "… wish it would just rain already, it’s like, cold and humid, just give us rain, shit or get off the pot, Texas!” she is saying.

We’re evidently talking about the weather.

“Ha, yeah,” I hear myself say.   _Nice contribution there, Shay._

She smiles at me though and leads me to a door between two storefronts, one of those doors that leads above the shops that you don’t even notice is there.  She wasn’t kidding it was close, just a block away, just two blocks from the bookstore.  She reminds me to make sure the door shuts behind me and makes her way up the stairs talking to me like she knows I’m still right behind her, “… can’t believe I never saw you at the bookstore, do you like, work odd hours or something?”

“No, not really, after school sometimes and weekends.”

“Weird,” she says and slides her key into the plain white door at the top of the stairs, she pushes it open and kicks off her shoes so I do the same.  There are coats piled all over the entryway, shoes jumbled against the wall, mail piled on a small table next to more coats and hats and scarves, “Hello?” she calls, there is no answer, “Cool,”  She says halfway to herself and disappears around the corner, “You thirsty?” she asks me.

“Sure,” I answer, even though I have my almost full bottle of tea still in my hand.  I set it down on the table and look around the small apartment.  There are posters on the wall, it's slightly cluttered, there is an old, ugly couch.   It smells like takeout and like something chemical, and maybe… vanilla.  The whiteboard in the hall says, “Take out the fucking trash, slackers!”  This doesn’t look like a family house, it looks like a college apartment.

I find my way to the kitchen and find her with her head in the fridge, “Coke, milk… um… water?  There’s beer,”  she says scowling like she feels weird offering it.

“Coke is fine,” I shrug and she pulls out a can and holds it out to me, her eyes finally meeting mine.  They are brown, lighter than mine, but brown.  My mind registers this.  I did notice that before, but I try to file it away officially.  She smiles and her cheek dimples, she nudges the coke towards me again. 

Right, this is where I take the can from her hand, I step forward and do exactly that, “You live here with your family?” I ask her.

She takes a drink, her eyes watching me before she answers, “Roommates,” she corrects me.

“Oh, okay,” I respond.  I consider asking more, but if I do she might ask me questions and  _I’m officially homeless and squat at people’s homes._  Is not a sentence I want to say to her.

“Mind if I turn on some music?” she asks, already reaching for the small black radio on the back of the stove.  I shrug and she pulls out her phone.  Soon music is playing through the speaker.  It’s something 80’s and I raise my eyebrows at her questioning smile, nodding before she goes back into the fridge.

I watch her pull cheese from the drawer and shut the fridge with her hip, “Don’t hover. Sit,” she orders

I hesitantly step forward, “Do you need help?”

“No, just company, sit and entertain me,” she suggests and I glance at the small yellow table and mismatched chairs below the window.  I slide into the seat and watch her, listen to her chatter and move around the kitchen.  I nod every once in a while, answer that I  _do,_  in fact, like grilled cheese sandwiches.

“One of my roommates makes it with Brie,” she informs me, scowling in disgust.

“I have no idea what that means, but I’m mad about it in solidarity,” I inform her and she laughs.  I smile back, my new goal in life is to make Lola-with-the-dimples laugh.

“What do you put on yours?” she asks me, I watch her profile as she looks down into the steaming pan, her lips are full and soft, turned up at the corners in a near-constant soft smile.

“I don’t know… cheese?” I tell her and she laughs again.  I mentally high-five myself.

She’s talking about spices and I watch her move her eyebrows, she pushes her hair behind her ear, gestures with the spatula.  She pulls down plates for us and takes a moment to bob along to the music, her hips making a small figure-eight to some 90’s song that is on.

She sings along softly with the chorus, " _Fade into you, strange you never knew…"_ her voice is pretty, my heart speeds up a little bit.  She breaks from the song like she didn’t realize she was singing, “You know what?-- Do you want tomato soup?  Grilled cheese is never as good without tomato soup.  Why half-ass this?  Go all in.”

“Sure, let’s go all in,”  I agree.

 

+++++ 

 

We sit and eat at the table, overlooking the street below.  Lola’s hair shows reddish, her eyelashes standing out against her pale skin in the warm sunlight streaming in on us.  We are talking about music a bit but it’s not like how Tyler and Marlon talk about music.  Her taste is all over the place.  A song is playing, something soft and bluesy,  _Nina Simone_ , she tells me.  She says that her mother introduced her to her music. Then she gets quiet and I let her, she sings every once in a while, moves her body when there’s a lull in the conversation.  Our silences aren’t uncomfortable.  I try not to watch her too much, but she’s watching me. 

“Who do you listen to?” she asks me and I don’t want to tell her, my usual answers are boring and not entirely honest.  My secret answers are… well, secret.  I wonder if I could tell her those.  I look up and she’s watching me still.

I’m not wrong about that, when I look away and look back she’s always watching me, her eyes are so soft and they crinkle at the corners when she laughs, but under that she’s searching me, her eyes looking for something.  If she’s looking for what I hope she is then she should have found it by now, I feel so fucking obvious. 

“Lots of stuff.”

She laughs, “Come on, last song you actively picked to play,” she prompts.  She props her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table, her eyes are so bright.

I’m so full, my heart is full of hummingbirds, my stomach full of butterflies my brain full of noise… I might cry if she touched me right now.  The thought startles me.  It’s extreme and ridiculous and ultimately humiliating, both that I’m so fucking extra and that notion that she’d even think to touch me… but her eyes are so soft.  I feel like this is a trap.

“Stevie Wonder, Superstition, " I tell her.

Her eyebrows shoot up, “That’s good shit!” she proclaims and I blush at that, because I’m an idiot.  I eat my soup, looking away before looking back.

She’s watching me, still.  She doesn’t look away when I catch her, she just smiles. 

 

+++++

 

I help her wash the dishes.  She’s convinced me to talk about my involvement in the STEM clubs. I remind her I am  _not_  officially part of them, which earns me an eye roll.   I find myself bragging that I was invited to show my robotics design at a fair in the Spring.  I feel stupid as soon as I tell her, nobody gives a shit about that, but then she’s asking questions about it.  She wants to know what it does, how I learned about it, what the hardest part of the design was, and I have to struggle to believe that she is interested.  I try to keep the answers short but she keeps prodding.

She wipes her hands on a dish towel, “Wow,” she says when she's out of questions.

She puts the dishes away as I dry my hands, “ _…I need you tonight, ‘cuz I’m not sleepin,”’_ she sings quietly. 

_Jesus._

She notices me watching her sing and smiles again, sings a little louder. “ _There’s something about you girl, that makes me sweat …,”_ she bumps her hip to mine and I feel myself burn up blushing.  She laughs, but is kind enough to say, “Want a tour?”

I quickly agree and she leads me out of the kitchen.  The music fading behind us.

Lola guides me through the living room and down the hall, points out the bathroom and three bedrooms.  “Mine,” she says, gesturing to the last room, it looks like the largest.  I see canvas stacked against the wall and look over at her, raising my eyebrows, “Go ahead,” she tells me.  I pause before entering her bedroom, try and fail to not to look around.  Unmade queen size bed, some clutter, books on the nightstand, sunny window, yellow curtains, my eyes pause on a poster on the wall, it’s painted in flat blocks of pink and red, and shows two women one is a red gown, her hair wrapped in a turban, pale skin flushed along her cheeks, bright red lips.  Beside her is a woman, nude, red hair, her hand curled up under her head where it rests on the other woman’s shoulder as they both gaze out at us.

I look over at Lola and find her watching me, “You know Klimt?” she asks.

“No,” I tell her.

“He’s my favorite artist.  That painting is called  _The Girlfriends_ , he painted it in 1916.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say about that.  I turn my focus to the canvases stacked against the wall. The chemical smell from earlier is strong here, it must be her paints.  I crouch down and look through, some landscapes, still lifes, the paint is loose and wet looking I’m almost scared to touch it, but it’s dry under my fingers where I hold the edges.  I can see how she paints in flat sections like Klimt but I don’t say so, I don’t want to get it wrong.  

I find a portrait of a woman with dark hair, she’s sitting against a black background her hair barely distinguishable from the background, she’s slightly above us, looking down at us, haughty almost.  She scowls slightly, holding a cigarette between full red lips, smoke curling around her face.  “I like this one a lot,” I tell her.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice though makes me look up.

She has her arms crossed across her chest, she’s biting at her thumbnail, she looks uncomfortable, the first time I have seen her anything other than at ease, so I put the canvas back, “I don’t know anything about art,” I confess.

She shrugs, relaxing a little, “It’s okay.”

“They look good though, it looks like you know what you’re doing,” I offer lamely.

She laughs, brightening again, she reaches over and tugs the edge of my shirt, “Come on, let’s smoke,” she says to me, I expect her to let go of my shirt but she doesn’t, she tugs me after her and not until my feet move does she actually let go.

 

+++++

 

We’re out on her fire escape, having crawled through the living room window, it looks down over an alley and a parking lot, the sun is setting behind us and the edge of the sky on this side is darkening.  I can see headlights on the freeway already.

“I’ve never smoked so much in my life,”  I tell her lowly as I watch her roll.  It feels appropriate to speak quietly for some reason.

She smiles down at her hands as she works, “Yeah?” she asks I watch her dimple deepen.

“Yeah, you’re making me a pothead,” I accuse.

“Uh-oh,”  She says and looks up at me, “am I corrupting you?”  Her voice is low and quiet, too, her eyes searching mine.  A frantic giggle threatens to erupt if I say anything so I just keep my mouth shut.  Rub the goosebumps out of my skin.

“You cold?” she asks as she lights the blunt, tilting her head to the lighter, her throat long and pale, I see that mole behind her ear again and swallow.  I smell blueberry from the paper she rolled with. 

“No,” I lie, watch her hold the smoke, she hands it to me, looking out over the view.  I take a hit but keep my eyes on her, trying to get my fill before she looks back at me.  She leans over the railing and I see pale skin above her waistband.  I wonder what she’d do if I reached over and ran my finger along it.  She looks at me, resting her chin on her shoulder and I finally look away and out over the city. 

We are quiet, there is a murmuration of starlings not far away, a larger bird, maybe a crow is divebombing them and they break up and then come back together again in a swirling cloud, they look like a single living thing.  Swelling and shrinking like a breath. Figure-eights.  Like moving to music.

Lola exhales, the air sweet between us.

_I’m happy._

“Tell me about something I don’t know,” Lola says seemingly out of nowhere.  

“What?” I'm a little startled, feeling as if she's read my mind. 

“Something that you care about that you don’t get to talk about,” she clarifies and I just look at her.

She takes another drag and hands it to me, I pause, watching her face for a moment before taking it, “Okay, what do you know about parallel universes?” I ask her.

She grins, “Not nearly enough."  I get this weird ache between my shoulders, the backs of my arms... my thighs.

_In a parallel universe, I’m sitting in the cold outside of a convenience store, still waiting for my ride._

 

+++++

 

We’re in her living room, chilled from being on the balcony too long, “I’m going to make coffee yeah?” she offers, “Warm up some?” 

“Okay,” I answer and as soon as she’s gone I open up my phone.

 

_Tyler_

_7:47 pm_

_I feel rank, I left work early._  

_Boo, you lying whore._

_Whatev, just go w/o me._

_Don’t think I won’t, you fucking loser._

_Sorry that my sickness angers you._

_Where are you?_

_I’ll crash with Beth 2-nite_

_Fine._

_You’re an ass._

_Jesus, sorry!_

_Whatever._

 

 

“What do you like in your coffee?” Lola asks, sticking her head back into the living room.

“Milk and sugar,” I tell her and she disappears again.

 

 

_Fern_

_7:53 pm_

_Hey Fern, sorry it’s cutting so close, but I’m not feeling well, I’m going to skip the party_

 

 I chew on my thumbnail, glance at the kitchen while I wait for the response.  It comes almost immediately.

 

_Oh, that sucks, I was looking forward to it._

_Yeah sorry._

_You okay?_

 

 

I cringe, she’s so nice.

 

 

 

_Yeah, I’m okay.  Some other time maybe._

_Do you need anything?  I could bring you stuff if you need anything._

 

Jesus Christ, woman. 

 

 

_No thanks, just going to turn in early._

_Let me know if you need anything, I can go to the store for you or something._

 

 I roll my eyes.

 

  _Thanks, I appreciate it._

 

I have just pressed send when Lola comes back into the living room with two cups of coffee, I see her eyes flick to my phone and I turn it off completely, tuck it in my pocket.

She hands me my cup and drops onto the floor beside the coffee table, “Do you like to color?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Color?” I ask, and she just pats the floor beside her.

 

 +++++

 

So… we’re coloring.  She has this book she calls an  _anti-coloring book_.  They are full of patterns and half-done drawings, and we’re supposed to finish them.  She pulled it and a box of colored pencils and pens from under the table and dropped them in front of her on the table between our coffee cups.  I watch her open to two pages side by side with a stair step of cubes covering them, there are some stick figures already drawn on the page, they seem to be attempting to move up and down the stack of cubes.  She picks up a pencil and I slide down beside her, I need to press close to her to be able to reach the page.  She smells like blueberry blunt and coffee and vanilla, she smells like some kind of perfume, or maybe laundry detergent, but I think it’s perfume.  She is warm beside me, I can feel the skin of her arm against mine and I get goosebumps. 

I watch her draw a stick figure hauling a ladder across the level he is on, then another kneeling on the level above reaching to help grab the ladder.  “You can’t do this wrong,” she informs me, like she’s reading my mind.  I pick up a black pencil and draw a door, the lead is actually purple, so I already messed up.  I draw a doorknob on it and she watches me, then draws another door on the level below, her door is open and she draws stairs inside of it, apparently leading up to my door. 

I draw a diving board off of an upper level with a little man on it, his arms over his head, then watch her draw a swimming pool below it with a little stick person floating on a pool floaty, large sunglasses take over its face.  I find myself smiling while I draw a stick figure parachuting down from the sky.  She starts drawing a target on the very lowest level for my stick man to land on.  A little figure waves flags to help guide him down.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Lola asks me.

“A doctor,” I tell her without even thinking.

She turns to me, “Yeah?  What kind?”

I draw a little stick man hanging off of a cliff, “Mm… like… a neurologist… or maybe neurosurgeon…”

She starts drawing two stick figures beneath my dangling man, “That’s big time!” she says, impressed and I feel myself blush, I’m being ridiculous.

I shrug, “Not that I will be, or can be, it's just an idea... I don’t know if I’ll even go to college though,” I tell her and she is drawing a blanket being held between the hands of her stick figures, they will catch him if he falls.

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Go to college?  Money.”

She scoffs, “I would bet a bajillion dollars you have like a 4.0 GPA.”  She says, I don’t say anything, because I do, 4.3 actually. “Get scholarships.”

I hesitate, I draw a house on one of the levels, a simple box house with a triangle roof, a chimney, a rectangle door, like you draw in preschool, a little blank black outline of a house. 

I can feel her looking at me, “There’s a lot going on…,”  I start, I don’t know where I’m going with this, I don’t want to talk about it, especially not with her, “it’s just a lot,” I tell her and look down at my house.  She is silent for a minute, then she reaches over and starts drawing a picket fence around my house, a tree, a sun with a happy face.  I pick up a red pencil and start drawing flowers in the garden of my house.  She draws a swing in the branches of my tree.  A cat in the window.  

We admire our little house a while, then I watch her pick up a pen and then reach over and grasp my hand, pulling me towards her so I have to turn my body.   I freeze as she pulls it closer.  Holding my breath, I can hear her breathing, I can hear music still coming from the kitchen, she bends her head over my hand, her hair just under my nose, I smell her shampoo and I feel that weird ache across my shoulders again.  She is drawing on my hand, the space below my index finger, on the web between my thumb, on my thumb itself.  She picks different colors and I just stay still and let her.  Feeling her warm soft hands on mine, her fingertips calloused a little, I see her fingernails, bitten, the paint chipped mostly off.  I try to breath calm and slow, to not breath on her too much.  My heart is pounding.  The moment is sweet, my nerves are raw, but then she is whispering the lyrics to the song faintly playing from the kitchen, “ _You can do it put your back into it…,”_ she is saying, and I smile, she seems to know the entire song.  She is fucking wrecking me right now. 

She pulls away and bends over her own hand while I look at her work, she has drawn a face on the knuckle of my hand so the space between my thumb and index finger is a mouth with full pink lips, the face has blunt dark bangs and long lashes, heavy-lidded dark eyes.  It’s me, I realize. 

She raises her hand to me and I see she has drawn her own face on her own hand, “You need to go to college,”  Hand-Lola tells Hand-Shay.

I snort, "You dork," I tell her.

Hand-Lola speaks to me, "That's okay," she says, "what about college?" she asks again... pushy little hand puppet.

“I probably will,” Hand-Shay says back.

“Good,”  Hand-Lola tells her.  Then hand Lola darts forward and kisses Hand-Shay with a loud “Mwa!”  Then real Lola jumps up and stalks across the room.  I am still sitting staring at Hand-Shay who sits hovering in the air her mouth hanging open.

“I have a game you would be good at,” Lola says and sits back beside me. She turns to face me and her knee is pressed against my thigh with a guitar resting across her lap.

I just look at the guitar and wait for more information and think over the fact that she just made her Lola kiss my Shay.

She strums a chord,  _“So it goes like this…,”_ She sings and I snort in laughter, she grins back unembarrassed, “ _I will play a soooong… and you… make up the words…,”  s_ he croons, her voice is pretty, the tune catchy. 

“Oh my God.  No,” I am already humiliated by this game.

“Come on it’s fun.  We play this at parties,” she tells me.

“Your friends are weird.”

“ _Come on, Shay… I know that you write… and I know it must be lovely…,”_ she sings.

“Oh my god, you’re such a glorious nerd,” I tell her laughing.

“Sing about it,” she orders.

“I can’t sing.  I write songs, but I can’t sing.”

“I have heard you.”

“You heard me rap.”

“Then do that.  Make something up about tonight.”

“No fucking way,”  I am blushing.

“Shay…,” she whines, I look up at her and she’s pouting, her head tilted slightly, eyes big as they look into mine, she has little bits of green, her eyes are actually hazel.  They are fucking amazing.

“Fuck,” I breathe, I’m already regretting this. 

She grins and shuffles herself around to face me, “You want a song or a beat?”

I sigh, roll my eyes, “A fucking beat. Jesus.”

She laughs, “This is awesome,” she says half to herself.  She starts a beat on with the flats of her fingers on her guitar. 

I bob my head a bit, getting the beat, “Oh god,”  I sigh.

I shake my head and give up, this is horrifying:

 

_“Hey, Lola, it’s time._

_She gon’ make me fuckin rhyme”_

She is grinning at me.

 

_“The Brie tastes just like my music_

_Good thing I smoked cuz we’re going acoustic”_

Lola is practically levitating she seems so happy to have talked me into this.

_“Beyond these walls, my life seems defined._

_Right now, I’m mostly happy, it’s an Austin state of mind._

_She’s saving stick men, gotta think they’re me,_

_But my house don’t have no goddamn key”_

Lola’s smile fades a little, but I make myself keep going:

 

_“Draw me a tree, smiling sun so free, too serious, Shay, it’s hyperbole_

_In an Austin state of mind.”_

I’m all in now.

 

_“Sweet, kind, bright, sorta darling,_

_Girl, I tell you, you move like a starling_

_I can handle this game, but can’t take the thrill_

_I try not to smile, but I guess I got no chill…”_

I run out of steam and let my rap stop.  She stops the beat her smile is gone, but then it grows again, until she’s grinning at me and I’m sitting there blushing awkwardly.

There is a noise behind us and her eyes get big, “Fuck, what time is it?” she asks.

I glance around me not knowing what I’m looking for, a clock maybe?  She jumps up, looking at her phone, then dropping it back on the table, “Fuck, shit, fuck,” she’s swearing, I jump up too as the front door opens and two girls spill in, coats and scarves and bags and noise as they chatter among themselves.

One of the girls pauses, taking in the scene with me and Lola standing in the living room, “Lo, you ready?  June is in the car waiting for us.”

“Fuck yeah, I lost track of time, is it 9 already?” she asks as she fumbles around.  I see her grabbing a bag, turning in circles patting her pockets.  I see her phone on the table and reach down and pick it up, handing it to her, “Thanks,” she says, “fuck sorry Shay, I forgot we were going out tonight.”

“Oh, yeah sure, no problem,” I tell her, move to get my bag, my coat, my shoes as the other girls move down the hall, still chatting.  I feel stunned.  I slide my coat on and watch Lola put her coat on, she’s scowling, staring at her feet as she shoves them in her shoes. 

The girls flutter back down the hall, “We going or what?” the taller girl snaps.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, seriously.  Yeah, let’s…,” the girls leave the apartment again and I can’t help but follow, feeling disoriented.  I pull my bag over my shoulder and watch Lola shut the door behind us, she stops and zips her coat, then looks at me and I meet her eyes for a moment, “Jesus, Shay, sorry about this, I’m an idiot.  Can you get home okay?  What ever happened to your ride?”

I feel myself flush, “It’s fine, the buses are still running, it’s not far.”

Lola scowls but starts down the stairs, “The  _bus_?”

I shrug, “It’s fine, Lola, seriously, don’t worry.  I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, totally.  Obviously.  Yeah.  I had fun,” she tells me, as we break out onto the sidewalk, the air is crisp, the sky dark.  I can see everyone’s breath in the air in white clouds.  There is a grey four-door sedan at the curb and the other girls have climbed into the back seat, still yapping among themselves.

“Lola!” someone yells and I look over to see the passenger window is down, the driver leaning over the seat to call to her.  The driver is a girl with dark hair, she looks vaguely familiar.  “Come on, we’re late, Lo,” she says, her eyes flitting to me.

“You’re sure you’re okay to get home?” Lola asks again, she’s already walking backward towards the car, she's going to break her neck someday, walking like that.

I wave her off with a scoff, “Yeah, I’m fine, of course.  Go, you’re late.”

Lola climbs into the passenger seat and the car pulls away before her seatbelt is even on.  The last I see of Lola is her looking back at me out the window before the car turns the corner and I’m left alone on the silent, empty street not sure where the fuck I’m going now. 

 

+++++

 

Tyler is at the party.  I never actually asked Beth if I could stay over, and her mom likes when I ask in advance.  I’m in a bit of a shit spot, but I find myself smiling as I walk towards the bus stop, this has still been a fucking awesome day.

I am floating all of the way to Tyler’s house on the bus.  I realize I’m smiling when other people start smiling back at me.  I smile at the bus driver and tell him to have a great night as I climb off.  It’s a really nice evening, I don’t even care that he just glares at me in response, fuck everybody, I’m in a great mood for once.

I slip around the side of Tyler's house and go straight for trying his window, I’m pretty damn sure he’s not home.  My good mood fades, however, when I find his window locked. I move to the back of the house quietly, before the neighbor dog can realize I’m there and lean against the house.   I text Tyler that I ended up coming to his house.  It takes a few minutes for him to respond, “ _I’m not even CLOSE to coming home.”_  He tells me

I stand there not sure what to do next, but then I am eyeing the side door to the garage.  I look around before trying the knob and it gives, the door pushing open silently.    

 _“I got this, have fun, I'll see you in the morning,"_   I text him.  I shut the door and move to his dusty old couch, there are already blankets and pillows there so I go ahead and settle in. 

This isn’t half bad, this will work.

I’m just settling in when my phone rings.  The tone is loud and I cringe and quickly answer it without checking the ID, my eyes snapping to the door into the kitchen.  I am silent, listening for anyone coming to investigate the sound, watching for the light to change.  I’m suddenly home again, waiting for my mother to bust through my door. 

I can hear a voice tinny on my phone against my chest, I raise it to my ear, “Hello?”  I answer lowly.

"Shay?" the voice responds, "You okay?"

Shit, I was not prepared, "Hi, dad,"  I answer quietly.

"Are you okay?" he asks again.

"I'm fine, it's just late, don't want to wake anyone."

"We just got your message," his voice is tense.

I pause, "Yeah...,"  I glance towards the kitchen door.

"Shay, where is your mother?"

"Home?"  I guess.

"Where are you?" he asks.

 _Fuck. "_ At... a friend's for the night."

"Which friend?"

I take a deep breath, "Tyler's."

I hear my father sigh, "Shay, you know... you know I don't... we talked about this."

I feel my temper flaring... it is so easily confused with sadness though... with disappointment, with that feeling of having my low expectations so perfectly met, "Dad..."

"They'll confuse you, Shay."

I huff out a laugh, it's so ridiculous, "Confuse me?"  I take a shakey break, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Shay, language...."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I ask again a little louder.

"You know what that means, Shay."

"Because I'll catch The Gay?" I taunt.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's just not healthy for kids...,"  I stop listening.   _Because it's healthy how we lived as a family, healthy how he left us, healthy living with my mom how she is, healthy living on my own.  God forbid I live with a family that gives a shit._

"I understand, Dad," I interrupt, trying to keep my voice calm. 

My father stops speaking, there is a voice in the background, it takes me a moment to place it.  Chloe.  My father speaks to her away from the phone, I can't tell what he says but his voice is tight.  He comes back to the phone, sighs, "Chloe and I have been talking, Shay... Chloe... Chloe thinks it might be a good idea for you to stay with us for a while."

I breathe, in. Out. In. Out.  “Chloe does, huh?  Are you inviting me because you want me, or because Chloe is making you ask?"  A car passes the garage, its headlights on my face as it stops at the stop sign, then scanning across the room as it turns.  That's how long it takes for him to respond.

“Shay, I’ll talk to your mom, get her back on track so you can stay and finish school year your friends.”  Chloe is talking in the background, her voice raised, he is not going by the agreed-upon script.  Poor Chloe, she didn't know what she was getting into.

“No, don’t bother, it’s fine, I got it.”  My eyes are burning.  It fucking pisses me off that he can still disappoint me.

“It’s just… we just bought the house… and… Shay, there's good news, because Cloe is pregnant… you’re going to be a sister.”

I blink and my vision clears.  "What?" I hear myself ask.  I can feel my face is wet, and scrub my fist across it.

This reaction is not allowed,  _fucking suck it up, buttercup_

With zero fanfare, the kitchen door suddenly pulls open, spilling light directly onto me, sitting crying like an asshole on my phone. Jenn is standing there looking at me in shock.

"Shay?"

_The box is officially open._

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Shay tries to dig up information on Lola. Shay makes a new tentative alliance in order to dig up information. Tyler forces Shay to talk to his parents about what is going on with her.
> 
> Special thanks to my queer-girl squad for helping me think of the great 80's tunes I added to this and the next however many chapters, I'm so glad I know you.
> 
> Songs mentioned in this chapter are:  
> Mazzy Star "Fade Into You"  
> Stevie Wonder "Superstition"  
> INXS "Need You Tonight"  
> Ice Cube, Mac 10, Ms. Toi "You Can Do It"
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ykx45p4s5h9ve7pl67awn1zqm/playlist/4DcVKJBKaPAkE6RNDbCFPD?si=PsKg-878SfW9KtP3UNoShA
> 
> Thanks for reading, PLEASE leave me kudos if you enjoyed this at all, and I adore comments so chat me up.


	6. My Everything-Is-Fine Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ++++++
> 
> “What kind of Halloween party has no alcohol and no costumes?”
> 
> “A neon party… which evidently means that you just have to wear shit that will look good under a black light, we can swing that, yeah?”
> 
> My adrenaline spikes at the words neon party. 
> 
> Neon party? Lola’s party?
> 
> Holy shit, is this it? Is this Zoya’s work?
> 
> ++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Lola showed up while Shay waited for Tyler to pick her up from work, and took her home for dinner. Shay skipped the party in favor of quality time with Lola. Shay finally spoke to her father, which just resulted in finding out some upsetting news. After finding herself locked out of Tyler's room, Shay broke into his garage and was caught by his mother.
> 
> In this chapter: Shay does some digging around and finds an odd ally or two. She gets pulled into an uncomfortable evening with her mother and finds her work paying off when things start to come together.
> 
> Trigger Warning: alcohol abuse by an adult, suggestion of past abuse, some mental/emotional abuse of a minor. No violence. if you need more specifics before reading check the endnotes. I will go through and try to do this on all chapters where needed.

+++++

 

I’m the kind of exhausted that fills your bones, your brain, your soul.

I’m back sleeping at my mom’s house, but I’ve been leaving before sunrise, to try to get to campus as soon as the doors are open, which is about two hours before first bell.  I need to lay low, Jenn and Rachel are suspicious now.  I covered with a lie about a spat with my mom but it was the wrong way to go. With the little of my history they know it was a red flag for them and they want to speak to her, to my dad.  I assured them I was fine, brushed it off, but I don’t think they’ve let it go, now I’m within reach of my mom all night, so if they call I have no idea what she’ll do.

 _Be honest, they can help you._   Tyler’s text is hot in my hand and I glance at it as I wander a part of the school I have never been in before. 

 

_Just make sure they don’t call my mom or dad, please, if they do I need to be warned._

_I will._

_I’m sorry, Shay._

I slide my phone back in my pocket and hoist my bag higher on my shoulder.  It’s still almost an hour before first bell and I’m roaming the school, I’m not sure what I’m looking for.  Information, I guess.

I haven’t texted Lola.  She hasn’t texted me.  I saw her in the hall yesterday, she was with friends and I smiled at her and she smiled back politely, but then walked right by me… like I was a stranger.  Like I didn’t write her a song, like she never saved my stick-people, like we didn’t build a home together in her coloring book… like our hand-selves never kissed.  But I noticed her eyes drop to my hand as she passed.

I look down at my hand now to see what she saw, her artwork has faded, it’s almost gone, a bit of my bangs, an eye, the edges of my lips.  Hers was gone completely and I admit that it hurts my feelings a little that she has let it be washed away.

I’m fucking ridiculous.

I pull my attention back to the vague task at hand.  This section of the school smells different, like chemicals and earth and creation.

The artsy kids are here, with their individuality advertised on their bodies, in their colorful hair, their clothing, the way they look at me like I’m lost.  I’m in the art wing of the school.  Looking for some kind of connection to Lola.  I’ll probably be doing the same after school, I can’t go to Tyler’s, it’s cold outside and I don’t have work today.  I begged for an extra shift but Trevor snagged them all, “He’s saving for college and Christmas,” they explain.

 _Well, I’m trying to buy food and pay my mom’s electric bill, thanks_! But I can’t say that can I?

I peek into rooms as I pass, tables, equipment on long countertops, looks like a science lab, the next rooms hold computers, I feel like I’m in the wrong place.

“You lost?” I hear behind me and turn to find Zoya Ali leaning against a doorway.  Head to toe black, her hijab draped around her face.  She’s beautiful and fierce, she scares the crap out of me. 

I hesitate, not only because she’s intimidating but because she knows Meg, “Maybe,” I admit.

Zoya narrows her eyes, looking at me, I can practically hear her brain working, “What are you looking for?”

“Painting rooms?”

She scowls harder, “Hm… messy arts… keep going down the hall.”

“Thanks,” I start to walk.

“Hey, Shay, are you looking for someone?”  she asks, I just shrug, keep my eyes ahead, “Lola Kamaka, maybe?” she asks and I almost trip over the pattern in the linoleum.  I look around quickly to see who has heard her, but nobody seems to notice us. 

I hurry back closer to her, “Kamaka? Who… how…”

She finally smirks, I'm caught. “Why else would you be in this part of the school?” I don’t know how to ask her what she knows without giving myself away, she seems to understand that because she blinks slowly at me, “Girl, I see everything.” 

I once read a story about bees near an M&M factory producing blue honey and her voice reminds me of that… something sweet and smooth that might be harmless, but your instincts tell you that you might want to be careful.

“What?  What do you see?” I ask her, horrified.

She leans in closer, “Everything," she says conspiratorially.

_Oh, God._

She straightens up and her voice is light again, “I also know how to keep my mouth shut, so don’t freak out.  I don’t need to know what's going on, just that I’ve seen you together.”

“There’s nothing to know," I scoff at her, I have never sounded less convincing and her look tells me she hears it too.

She raises her chin, examines me for a moment, I squirm under her gaze, “Listen…”  She pauses and eyeballs two girls who are standing nearby, minding their own business, “Move along,” she orders them and they look over at her, scowling, “You heard me." They look confused and offended but move along anyway. 

Now that I think of it, Zoya _is_ kind of everywhere, we’ve had several classes together and she’s in robotics club, I see her at parties, either with Meg’s crew or with people I have never seen before, she in on student council, participates in sporting events, fundraisers, I even see her randomly in public sometimes.  The girl kind of has her toe in every pond.  I haven’t spent much time _bonding_ with Zoya, but this is generally how interactions with her tend to feel.  She turns back to me, “So yeah, maybe we can help each other out.”

I scan her warily, “How?”

Silence again as she plots, it’s impressive to watch, “I need you to have lunch with Kyle Zeitlan today,” she tells me.

My head spins, this is not where I thought this was going, “What? No. Why?” I sputter. 

She raises her eyebrow at me, “You won’t have to stay long, just sit with him at an empty table.” 

I shake my head firmly, “No, see, he just started backing off… he’ll misunderstand....”

“Just do it!” she snaps, impatient.

I scoff, “Okay… chill.”

“Make it happen, leave two empty seats.”

“What if I can’t…?”

“Figure. It. Out." She's speaking to me like I’m simple-minded.

“You’re attitude fucking sucks for someone who wants a favor!”  I inform her.

Her expression is ice cold, “This is not a _favor_ … it’s an exchange.”

“What am I getting?”

She smirks again, “An assurance that you will be invited to a neon party with Lola Kamaka.”

She’s got my attention now, “What the fuck is a neon party?”

“Does it _matter_?” she snaps.

I flinch, “Okay, no I guess not,” I admit.

“I’ll be in touch," she says and walks down the hall.  A crowd of students is coming the other direction and they part for her like she's royalty.

 

+++++

 

Lunch bell rings and I close my eyes, centering myself.  I gather my things and head into the hallway, I know Beth is waiting for me one direction so I slide the other, hurrying towards the gym.  I have a paper to do and since my only computer access is at school I’d like to spend my lunch doing that, but Zoya has me on a mission. 

I see Kyle, his hair damp from the locker room, his skin flushed, I brace myself, “Kyle, hi.”

He looks surprised to see me, I have just spent weeks avoiding him and now I’m searching him out, he has every right to sound suspicious when he replies, “Uh, hi?”

This is literally painful, “Would you sit with me at lunch?”  I ask and his eyes narrow.

He glances at his friends and I feel myself blushing, this is embarrassing.

“I guess,” he says cautiously.

“Okay, let’s go," I say and start to walk.

“Today?” he asks, but he’s following me.

“Yeah, come on, I want to get a good table.”

 

+++++

 

I sit us at a table near the doors, shooting dirty looks at anyone who tries to sit with us.  I, unfortunately, glance outside and make eye contact with Tyler near our usual table, his face is pure horror.  I roll my eyes at him and turn back to Kyle who seems happy enough and is chatting about soccer, evidently, he’s on the team.  I dare to glance back to Tyler and the whole crew is now watching me, their reactions run the gamut from confusion to teasing to excitement.  _Jesus Christ._ Tyler is gesturing crudely and I glare daggers at him.

“Shay!” I hear and spin back to find Zoya standing beside the table, she has a confused looking Kelsey beside her, the rest of her squad is notably absent.

“Uh, hey, Zoya!” I respond, attempting to match her excited tone.

“Mind if we join you for a bit?” Zoya asks.  I watch Kelsey’s eyes flit between us with a frown.

“No, yeah sure, please do,” I tell her.  What the fuck even is this?

Zoya places herself beside me, leaving the seat beside Kyle empty.  Kelsey hesitates, her eyes scanning the room, probably for Meg and their other friends, before she reluctantly sits beside Kyle.

Kyle, to his credit, gives her a welcoming smile.  Zoya starts talking to us, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize what she’s doing.  Everything she says connects Kyle and Kelsey in some way, their involvement in extracurriculars, TV shows, music... she’s done her homework.  Every time Kyle attempts to include Zoya or me in the conversation she steers it back towards Kyle and Kelsey until they manage to start excluding us on their own, then she falls silent and still. 

It’s magnificent. She's diabolical.

I meet Zoya’s eyes across the table and she looks smug before she nudges her head meaningfully towards the hallway.  It takes me a moment, but then I catch on and excuse myself quietly to go work on my paper.

Zoya is a fucking evil genius.

My paper is on World War II, and I find myself wondering if I could somehow manage to reference Zoya while talking about the Axis powers. 

The computer lab at school is always amazingly empty.  I work through the rest of lunch and come back after the last bell to work and it is empty both times except for Mrs. Dern who is always on lab duty Wednesday afternoons and is sitting at her desk glancing at me more often than is necessary.  She brings me half a sandwich at 5 pm.

“Lab is closing, Shay.”

I stretch, “I know, okay,” I rush through one more sentence, then save my work. 

She nudges the sandwich over, “I made too much," she says and I glance over at the sandwich before accepting it.

“Everything okay?” she asks me, shutting down computers in my row.

I shut down my own and the ones on either side of me, “Everything is fine," I tell her in my _everything-is-fine_ voice.

“Do you have a computer at home?” she asks, watching me try to eat my chicken salad sandwich casually.

“Nope. ”

“I didn’t think so… I hope you don’t mind…”  she begins and moves back to her desk, “but I took it upon myself…”  she pulls out a black case from under her desk, “to bring you a spare laptop.” 

My eyes slide greedily over the case, “Is it the school’s?”

She looks at me, “Sure,” she lies and I’m thankful.

“So I can check it out?”

“Sure can.”

“Perfect.”

+++++

 

As I typically do, I stop to assess my mother’s house before I risk going in.  The outside of the house looks normal, I can see movement in the living room.  I tuck the laptop carefully into my bag and approach the front door.  I eyeball the stairs from the doorway, the path is clear.  I cautiously open the door and pause.  I can smell it in the air, the smell of this house and my mother, but I also smell food cooking and cleaning supplies.

“Shay?” I hear brightly from the other room.

I try not to flinch as my mother rounds the corner, “Hi, mom," I consider telling her she looks good, she does, she is awake and alert and she looks like she’s cleaning house, but I know fewer words are best, less likelihood of saying the wrong thing.

“You’re late," she says and her tone is bright still but the words make me nervous.

“I had a paper I needed to write so I used the school computer lab.”

“I’m making dinner,” she tells me.

 I test out responses quickly in my head:   _I already ate._  No. 

 _I’m not hungry._  No.

 _Wow, that’s great!_ No. Not wow.

“Great, I’ll go wash up and come help,” I tell her and she smiles and goes back into the kitchen.

I wait until she’s actually gone to rush up the stairs.  The outside of my door is banged up, I try not to look at it.  I slip inside and lock the door behind me, leaning against it to breathe.

I check my window to make sure it is unlocked. Leave my backpack and shoes next to my dresser in case I need to get out quickly and go back to help my mother finish dinner.

 

+++++

 

Everything I do is wrong.  I can’t cut the vegetables right, I use the wrong cutting board, the wrong knife, I drop some chopped carrots on the floor and it pisses her off.  I’m cautious picking them up, she’s too close to me.  My stomach churns as I move around beside her.

“I just want to have a nice family dinner for once," my mother complains, “is that too much to ask?”

“It will be nice, mom,” I assure her. My hands are shaking.

She pours herself more wine, drinks it too quickly.

“Would you like music on?” I offer, if there is music she might calm down, we will have to speak less.

She shuts the oven door harder than necessary, “Jesus, no, I already have a headache," she snaps, “sit down, I’ll finish myself," she tells me, “have to do everything myself,” she mutters.

I sit and arrange the table, glance at the clock, only 6:30, this could go on for hours.

She drops my plate in front of me, “The chicken burned," she mutters, “of course.”

“It looks wonderful," I attempt to reassure her.

“Just eat," she nudges her wine glass towards me and I fill it again, all of the way to the top, maybe she’ll get tired. 

“Do you want to tell me about when you sang?” I ask quietly.  This tactic is hit or miss.

“That bullshit?” she asks, but her voice is quieter, she’s considering it.

“I love those stories," I tell her.

She’s quiet, she takes a bite of her chicken and doesn’t say anything about it being overcooked, “I used to have a nice voice," she says.

“You still do," I tell her and she doesn’t look at me.

“In college, I sang with the choir, but what I really loved was performing at the clubs.”

This can take a dangerous turn, she met my father performing, I carefully guide the conversation, “Tell me about the jazz club," I suggest, and she visibly brightens.

“I performed at a jazz club near the university, it smelled like whiskey and pipe tobacco all of the time… it smelled like money and class… I can smell it even now.”  She smiles at her wine glass and I relax a little. 

 

+++++

 

My mother is passed out on the couch, I took her wine glass and covered her with a blanket and went to my room, locking it behind me.  I melt against the door and breathe.  Letting my head fall back against the wood.  It’s 10 pm.  I’m so tired.  I want to sleep, but I also have been itching to get my hands on that laptop. 

I open it on my bed and comb through it, it’s mostly wiped clean, like a new computer, Mrs. Dern thought this through.  I find an open connection and log in to my Facebook account.  In the search bar I type in _Lola Kamaka._

There are a dozen or so similar sounding names, as if they think I spelled it incorrectly, and then there is one _Kamaka Lola._   WIthin that profile, the few visible photos are of flowers, she has one friend, it’s a private account.  Nothing on Twitter, no Instagram under her name.  I Google her name and comb through the results.  One promising link is to a two-year-old article naming the high school she might have gone to before coming to ours and I open it.  It is an article about an art exhibit.  There is a group photo of six teenagers, posing in a gallery.  Lola stands tall in the back row, smile bright, looking younger, her curls shorter than they are now.  I zoom in, but the photo is poor quality and blurs.

I read through the article.  Six art students who were chosen to participate in an art show.  One would be chosen to receive prize money.  I move down the page and find a video link, it opens with the school logo, their school must have sent their own students to cover it.  I click on it and it is poor quality, grainy and too loud.  My eyes fly to the door as I scramble to turn it down.  There is a student journalist speaking to one of the students.  She asks him a few questions about his work, moves through the students with choppy editing cuts and shaky camera work.  She asks about the show, about their lives.

Then there is Lola, I nudge the volume up a bit and lean closer to the screen.  She looks openly excited to be interviewed, to be alive in general.  She’s standing in front of a large painting, it shows a scene with several teenagers sprawled around a cluttered bedroom, the lighting and colors are bright, the scene intimate, the teens look like they are lounging, leaning into each other, gossiping, spending time just being together.  There are plates of food, one holds what might be a joint between her fingers, the smoke curling around her.  It could be from a photograph, but with the ease and stillness of the girls she just as easily could have painted it there in the room with them.

“Can you tell me about your submission piece?” the student reporter prompts, reading from a note card in her hand.

“It’s called _The Girlfriends,”_   Lola starts, and I remember her pointing out the painting on her wall by Klimt, _The Girlfriends._ “I created this for a linked class, which was Art  History in Feminism, we were asked to discuss what influenced us most in life while including elements from our most recent lesson about the representation of women by female artists, and how they occupy space.  There are many examples in art history where women represented the spaces they were permitted to occupy by enclosing their figures within a space… a balcony, a fence, surrounded by objects like furniture, for example.  Being a teenager, being a woman… perhaps just being _me,_  I get a lot of strength from my friends, and I feel like women are still only truly able to feel fully comfortable and safe within a confined controlled space, and we have learned to share those spaces with other women to find strength and support.” 

The young reporter pauses for a moment, “Is she smoking a cigarette?”  She sounds slightly scandalized.

Lola’s smile fades a bit as if realizing her audience might not be what she thought, “Yeah, okay,” she says finally with a crooked smile, and I find myself smiling also.  _Quality reporting there, glad to know they sent their best._

I watch the rest of the clip and other than a group shot at the end and some clips of the show in general in which you can see Lola in the background, I don’t see her again.  I rewind and watch her segment again.  Her dimples, her curls wilder when her hair is shorter.  I love how she talks with her hands, she moves them so softly, but there’s so much energy in her.  She seems to mainline  _happiness_ , and I want some.  I watch it a third time and then start feeling weird about it.

I scan the rest of the article and am happy to find out that she won the prize money.   I feel proud of her, as if it has anything to do with me.   The laptop chimes and I have a message on Facebook.

I open the screen and see it is from Tyler, _can I video?_  He asks.

As a response I press video chat and after a few moments his face fills my screen, he looks disoriented for a moment, as everything falls into place, he is in his room, I can see his band posters above his bed.

“Hey, dork, you home?” he asks. I glance at the door again, turn down the volume.

“Yep,"  I chirp.

He squints, “Are you on your phone?”

“Nope!  I’m all uptown on an actual laptop.”

“Wow, what truck did you steal that from?”  he asks.

I gasp in mock offense, “I don’t _steal!_   I turned some tricks downtown and earned the money fair and square.”

“Good to know you have your career path all planned out," he deadpans.

“What do you want?  Did you just chat me up to be a giant dick?”

“So... what was the deal at lunch?” he asks, his face painted with confusion and disbelief.

I roll my eyes, “Jesus, I was just doing a favor for someone, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

He pauses, scowls a little, he and Zoya are very similar I am realizing, “Okay then…” he begins, “since you’re in the mood to do favors…”

I sigh, “What do you want?”

“Don’t say no... think about it first… but… Halloween party," he says, presenting it like he’s trying to sell a studio on a movie script.

“No,” I tell him quickly. "H _aaaaa_ rd fucking pass, dude," I clarify.

He visibly wilts, “You fucking suck," he informs me, “these are my _friends_ and I have been trying to introduce you for months.”

“Sorry, bro, no way, I am partied out.  I have too much shit going on to stress about that crap.”

He pouts, “It’s not even costumes, and there will be no drinking, I’ve been assured… no costumes even!”

“What kind of Halloween party has no alcohol and no costumes?”

“A neon party… which evidently means that you just have to wear shit that will look good under a black light, we can swing that, yeah?”

My adrenaline spikes at the words _neon party._  

_Neon party?  Lola’s party?_

_Holy shit, is this it?  Is this Zoya’s work?_

“Who invited you?” I ask him cautiously.

His mood brightens, “Why? Will you go?”

“Yeah, I’ll go," I tell him.

He looks shocked, “Are you serious?” his eyes narrow again, “Why are you not fighting me on this?”

“You _want_ me to fight you on this?”

He raises his hands to the camera, “No!  No, no, no, no…"  he shoves an accusing finger at the camera, "but no fucking backing out.  I’m supposed to RSVP, it’s that kind of party.”

“Okay, I won’t back out," I assure him, my mind is racing.

“And I’m not fucking leaving early, so if you chicken out you find your own way home.”

“Tyler, do you want me to go or not?” I snap at him.

“Yes, just… I know you.  And I love you," he assures me, “but I _know_ you.”

“It’s fine!  I’ll be there and I won’t make you leave early. And I will wear blacklight appropriate attire… I’ll look like a god damn crime scene under those blacklights… I’ll look like a cheap hotel room under those blacklights.”

Tyler laughs, “Ew.”  I grin at him, he looks so happy.  His smile fades a bit, “Don’t tell the rest of the crew, yeah?” he tells me cautiously.

I don’t ask why, I don’t want them there either, “Okay.”

“Just us," he tells me, his smile returning.

“Just us,"  I agree.

There is a thump in the hallway and I freeze, muting the computer.  I quickly turn off my bedside lamp so the computer is the only light in the room.

I see Tyler’s expression drop as he notices my change in mood.  His mouth moves but I can’t hear him.  I raise my finger to him and he bites his lips.  The hall is quiet, I give it a good 30 seconds before unmuting the laptop, but I turn the volume down, I lean into the computer, “I better get offline, my mom was in a weird mood earlier, I don’t want to wake her.”

“You’re okay though?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, everything is fine," I assure him, he knows that phrase too well though and waits me out, “Really, I’m okay, I’m going to go to sleep, see you in the morning."

“Okay, goodnight, be safe.”

“I am.  Thank you.”

“Love you," he says and smiles at me, I note that he leaves off the insult.

“I love you, too," I tell him.

“Gross,” he complains, but he is still smiling at me.  I flip him off and hang up, closing the laptop and bringing my room into darkness. 

As always, my eyes are on the crack of light under the door.

 

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: THE NEON PARTY!
> 
> Spoiler if you need more specifics on trigger warning in this chapter: Shay is forced to interact with her mother when she is drunk and she's obviously very uncomfortable and it hints at past abuse, but other than some snarky rude comments, and Shay being anxious about what might happen, it's not too graphic


	7. Safeword: Peanut Butter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++
> 
> Her face is close to mine and her other hand holds my chin. I feel the brush glide over my nose, over my chin, along my temples, she meets my eyes for a moment and smiles. “Hi,” her mouth says but I can’t hear her.
> 
> I just blink at her. She lets me go, but then she drops to her knees in front of me and I literally jump. Her hand is on my bare hip and she’s painting sun rays around my belly button. Tyler is seemingly unaware of what is happening beside him, he’s started dancing to the music that is blaring over the speakers. I vaguely recognize the song as one of the 80’s tracks that were playing at Lola’s house. 
> 
> In the midnight hour, she cried, more, more, more  
> With a rebel yell, she cried, more, more, more
> 
> ++++++
> 
> (I whipped this out, probably too quickly, I had this chapter planned out long before chapter 6 and struggled my way through that to get HERE. I'm going to just post it and reread tomorrow to see if I'm happy with it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay did some digging around and an unexpected ally in Zoya.  
> She got pulled into an uncomfortable evening with her mother and found her work paid off when she received an invitation to a party Lola was attending.
> 
> In this chapter: Shay and Tyler attend a Halloween neon party. Tyler hopes to introduce Shay to his new friends and Shay hopes to connect with Lola
> 
> TW: incident at the very end of chapter involving addiction see endnotes for spoiler for trigger warning.

+++++

 

Angelica smells like peanut butter.  So much so, in fact, that I keep checking my clothing for some sign of it.  I don’t ask for an explanation and Tyler doesn’t offer one.  It’s Saturday night we just spent the better part of the afternoon at Tyler's house getting ready for this party.  For the first time, I wasn’t complaining about the primping, I need to look fly.  We’re dressed in all white and neon colors.  Tyler looks basically how he usually does anyway, which I didn’t hesitate to tease him about.  Again Becca let me raid her closet and she dressed me up like a freaking Bratz Doll.  I feel horribly naked underneath my sweatshirt which I am going to refuse to take off until we get into the party.  It occurs to me that I might not have the nerve to take it off, even there. 

Tyler has decided that he is exclusively listening to early punk music, he turns off The Sex Pistols, so the only sound in the car is the squeal of his unhealthy fanbelt and the noise in my brain, “Calm down, you’re making me nervous, why are you freaking out?” he demands.

“Why are _you_  freaking out?” I counter.

“Okay, you preschooler.  What’s up with you?”

I look back out the window, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Do you need a safeword?” he teases.  I glance at him, “If the party is too much?”

I look back out the window, “Peanut butter,” I tell him and he’s quiet.

“Peanut butter?” he asks, confused, “Okay then,” he agrees, “random as fuck, but fine, _peanut butter_.”  How can he not smell the peanut butter in this car?  We are quiet again, then, “Is it mom stuff?”  He guesses. 

“Yeah,” I say because it will shut him up.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight.”

We drive in silence for a few seconds and I turn the radio back on.

 

+++++

 

The building we pull up to isn’t a house, it’s a legit hotel, we triple check the address, then finally give in and go inside.  Once inside, we are led to some kind of banquet room.  Thumping music, brightly dressed guests, and eerie blue light spills from the room.

“What is this?  I thought it was a house party,” I whisper, and Tyler shrugs.  A girl dressed in white feathered wings with neon paint on her face meets us at the door.

“Under 21?” she asks.

“Yeah?” I answer warily.  She stamps our hands with a large stamp, but we can’t see anything.  “Have fun, body paint and party favors are at the table inside," she hands us each three drink tickets.

Tyler grins at me and slips through the door.  I call after him but he’s gone.

“Can I take your sweatshirt?” someone asks and I hesitate before pulling it over my head.  I curl my arms around my middle.  Feeling exposed. 

“Shay!” I hear and find Tyler at a long table with other people.  He’s bouncing around excited, “This is fucking awesome!” he yells over the music.  He’s pawing through neon colored bracelets and necklaces and 80’s style shutter sunglasses.  He pushes a pair of green ones over his eyes and grins at me, his teeth glow white.  He then pushes it over his head like a headband and picks up some pink body paint. 

He moves to paint me but I stop him, "You first," I tell him.

“Okay, _do me_!” he orders, throwing his arms out wide and I chuckle.  I take a few moments to consider what I should paint on him.

“Hey!  Let me!” I hear and turn to find Lola standing behind us.  She has a spiral of orange and pink dots across her face, curving around her eyes and down her cheek, her lips are glowing pink, her hair is streaked with color twisting up and leaving her long neck bare.

“Lola!” Tyler says just as my mouth is beginning to form her name myself and my eyes snap to him, he knows Lola?

They embrace, which answers that question.

“Lola, this is my best friend Shay,” Tyler says proudly.

Lola laughs, “Hi, nice to meet you, Shay!” she says and winks at me, she puts her hand out formally as if to shake mine and I have no choice but to do it too.  I note that on the back of each of our joined hands is a big glow in the dark baby bottle. She laughs and pulls my hand so my face is leaned down beside her's and she can yell over the music, I can smell her perfume. "Subtle, huh?" she’s wearing a white halter top and her smooth bare shoulders are painted with intricate swirls, I can’t stop staring at them, “My friend Jack is making everybody get stamped so nobody gives us alcohol,” she rolls her eyes.

I can’t think of anything to say. “Shay really doesn’t drink anyway,” Tyler offers and I glare at him.

“Me neither!” she tells us then pulls Tyler over, “Let me paint you!” she is saying but she’s already decorating his face in polka dots.  She makes quick work of it, stopping only long enough to say hello to a group that has come in the door. 

When she is finished, she turns to me, “Your turn, you gorgeous thing,” she says, her tone teasing, and my stomach flutters.  She takes longer on me, or maybe I’m just super aware of everything.  Her face is close to mine and her other hand holds my chin. I feel the brush glide over my nose, over my chin, along my temples, she meets my eyes for a moment and smiles. “Hi,” her mouth says but I can’t hear her.

I just blink at her.  She lets me go, but then she drops to her knees in front of me and I literally jump.  Her hand is on my bare hip and she’s painting sun rays around my belly button.  Tyler is seemingly unaware of what is happening beside him, he’s started dancing to the music that is blaring over the speakers.  I vaguely recognize the song as one of the 80’s tracks that were playing at Lola’s house. 

 _In the midnight hour, she cried, more, more, more_ _  
With a rebel yell, she cried, more, more, more_

Lola pops up, her hand lingering hot on my hip, “There, all done!” she says, “Get something to drink… Tyler, have a boa!” she suggests and drapes a rainbow boa around Tyler’s neck.

He yells something near her ear and she grins and gestures across the room, then she’s gone.  I watch her walk away, weaving through the crowd.  Her back is bare and her spine is painted with a trail of yellow flowers.  I haven’t seen her in anything other than t-shirts and jeans, she’s soft and curvy in the same way I am firm and straight.  I instantly feel unequal to her.

“Come on!” Tyler calls and yanks on my arm.  He is bouncing beside me, “This party is _great!"_ he is yelling.  He pulls me into the crowd.   I think that he’s taking us to the dance floor, but he cuts through to the other side of the room.  Somewhere in the middle of the room he pauses and lifts up on his toes to look over everyone’s heads.  When he doesn't find what he's looking for, he pulls out his phone and types away.  I take deep breaths, _I’m here to have fun,_  I remind myself.  I need to relax.

I look around the crowd, I don’t think I know anyone here except Tyler and Lola.  Everyone is dancing and laughing and loud.  There are two guys kissing on the dance floor and nobody is even looking at them... except me, I realize, and pull my eyes away.

“Peanut butter?” Tyler yells beside me.

"What?" I ask, forgetting the context.  _Oh._ I shake my head, “No, this is great.”  I want to mean that.

Ty looks at his phone, “This way!” he yells and pulls on my wrist.

There is a group of people around a table all yelling and talking over the music.  Tyler slides up next to the couch and smiles at them, “Guys, this is Shay!” he calls and I smile at them uncomfortably.

“ _The_ Shay?” a blonde guy says to me, eyes wide with wonder, “I thought he made you up!” I look over to Tyler and have to double take, he’s smiling shyly at the guy who is now hugging me and I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that.  His hug is tight and genuine.

“This is Josh,” Tyler announces.

“Nice to meet you, Josh,” I yell over the music.

“You want to sit with us?” Josh yells.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” I say at the same time that Tyler says,  _Yes._ Tyler meets my eyes for a moment before sinking onto the couch beside Josh.

“I’ll bring you something,” I tell him and he nods happily.  I make my way across the dance floor towards the bar.  Another song is on that I recognize from Lola’s.

 _I might like you better_  
_If we slept together_  
_But there's somethin'_  
_In your eyes that says_  
_Maybe that's never_  
_Never say never._

It’s hot and loud, I’m a bit overwhelmed.   I find the bar and watch the man beside me flash his hand to the bartender, a big glowing 21 is on the back of his hand.  The bartender passes him a beer for his ticket and he smiles at me before leaving. 

I ask for a Coke, I’m sure he can’t hear me, but he reads lips well because he hands me a Coke, opening it on the bar in front of me and handing it directly to me.  He takes one of my tickets and goes to help someone else.  I back a little towards the wall.  I can see Tyler with his friends, Josh and he have their whole bodies turned toward one another, I watch Josh reach over and push Tyler’s hair off of his forehead and Tyler leans into him. 

My heart is beating fast.  I sip at my Coke and contemplate leaving, the very thought makes me sad.  I don’t want to want to leave.

I feel a cool hand on my arm and turn to find Lola beside me, “You okay?” she asks. I swallow, take a deep breath, blow it out, “You’re okay,” she says and takes my soda, sets it down,  “Come dance,” I shake my head and she wrinkles her nose at me, nods, tugs on my hand.

The music changes and she grins and bobs her head to the beat, it takes me a moment, but I realize why she’s smiling when the lyrics start:

 _All you got is this moment_  
_The twenty-first century's yesterday_  
_You can care all you want_  
_Everybody does yeah that's okay_

I know this song too, I remember it from her kitchen.  Lola sways her hips there in front of me, and I remember the starlings.  We’re tucked behind the bar next to the curtained wall.  I glance out at the crowd, nobody sees us here, nobody is trying to.  She dances closer, too close, looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine under the blue lights, “Dance with me,” she says.  And I feel my feet move, her smile gets wider. I feel her hand on my waist. My arms are instantly covered in goosebumps.

 _I need you tonight_  
_'Cause I'm not sleeping_  
_There's something about you girl_  
_That makes me sweat_

I watch her neon lips form the words to the song as she sings to herself, she’s so close I can feel her breath sliding past her lips and against my cheek.  She’s smiling slightly in that way she does, her eyes are following the movement of our hips.  I’m trying to relax, I feel stupid, and awkward and clumsy, but how can I say no to this?

She turns her back to me, smooth bare shoulders right in front of me. Skin dark in the blacklight. That mole behind her ear.  I can smell her, the same perfume I smelled when she held my hand to draw on me, mixed with her body heat.  She dances away from me a little then back. 

I look down and see that line of flowers down her spine, the curve of her waist and wonder if I should.  _She_ did.  Before I can think too much I put my hand on her waist, her skin is damp, and look up at her profile to see if she objects, she just keeps dancing, stepping back a little closer to me. 

After a minute she turns again and drapes her arms over my shoulders, pulling my body to move with her she just keeps her eyes down between us.  Watching the sunrays she painted on my stomach.  I feel her fingers on my neck.

 _I've got to let you know_ _  
You're one of my kind_

The song fades out and she looks up at me through dark lashes for a moment, her arms still over my shoulders, my hand still on her hip.  "See?  Not so difficult, right?" she asks. Some of her curls have fallen and stick to the sweat on her shoulders and neck.  Her pink lips are stretched into a closed smile like she’s trying not to, it makes her eyes bright and her dimple deep in her cheek. I shake my head and smile too, but almost as fast as it is there, her smile fades.  She blinks it away, and I wonder at the sudden mood change.

Before I can say anything, the tune changes and she grins, “I love this song!” she yells and bounces away from me. It’s some 80’s synth pop that I maybe recognize, but she obviously does, because she hops away from me and I miss her warmth and weight against me.  My fingers twitch to reach for her, but she’s already halfway across the crowd, and I am left standing at the edge feeling frozen and awkward.  I can’t hear her but she’s yelling the lyrics and people around her are smiling and yelling with her.

_She’s just the girl, she’s just the girl_

_The girl you want…_

It’s not that she’s a great dancer, it’s not like she’s doing some choreographed routine or… any kind of official dance moves… it’s not like watching Meg dance, where you can tell she’s thinking the whole thing through… Lola’s just a girl who can hold a beat and move her body.  She just grins and predicts rhythm changes and knows the words to every song.  She wiggles her shoulders, snaps her hips to the syllables in a phrase, pumps her fists in the air, breaks out into frantic bouncing when the beat gets wild.

 _Look at you with your mouth watering_  
_Look at you with your mind spinnin'_  
_Why don't we just admit it's all over_  
_She's just the girl you want_

_She's just the girl, she's just the girl  
The girl…_

Lola acts out the lyrics, pointing at people and gesturing like a dork and doesn’t seem to give a single shit if anybody is watching.  No... that’s not true, she knows everybody is watching and she’s enjoying it.  She just knows she looks good, that she looks fun and happy and it’s contagious.   Everyone crowds around her, dancing near her, then with her, she smiles at them, flirts, mimics their moves and bumps hips, raises arms above her head and twines fingers together with strangers.  She screams the words, shakes out sweaty curls, and everyone joins her. 

I can still feel her fingers on my skin, her breath against my face.  My arms are still covered in goosebumps.

_She sends out an aroma of undefined love._

She’s a fucking drug.

_It drips down in a mist from above._

I’m high off of her… drunk… it’s terrifying.

_She’s just the girl, the girl you want._

I pick up my Coke can from the table and go to find Tyler, he is still on the couch, body turned towards Josh they are talking to a girl who has sat beside them.

“Shay, there you are!” Tyler says, so glad to see me.

I smile at him and he stands and hugs me, I can smell alcohol on his breath, “How’d you get alcohol?”

He grins, “I didn’t,” he tells me, I narrow my eyes at him, he flashes his eyebrows at me, “Let’s dance!” he says and pulls me into the crowd.  This feels right, Tyler and me floundering on the dance floor.  I bounce alongside him and he flaps his boa around.  His friends join us and I start to relax, purposely _not_ looking for Lola in the crowd.

 

+++++

 

Two hours later, the 80’s music ran out a while ago, and they are on to some more contemporary stuff.  The volume a lot lower, the crowd thinning out.  Whoever is left is gathered in groups socializing.

I’ve moved with Tyler and his friends onto an outdoor patio, the cold air feels amazing on my overheated skin.  Someone has seemingly magicked a joint out of thin air, which we are quickly and covertly burning through.  Tyler leans against Josh on the railing, their sides pressed together talking quietly.  He seems so sweetly comfortable.  

“How do you know Lola?” someone asks and Tyler looks up as if he’s going to answer, his eyebrows pull together when he sees his friend is asking me.

“School, we met a few times,” I tell him with a shrug.

I look to Tyler who looks like he wants to ask me questions.

“Do you know June and the other girls too?”

I shake my head, “Nope.”

He nods, his eyes dragging over my face as if he’s working something out. Josh turns and goes inside, muttering something to Ty that is too low for us to hear.  I watch Josh’s hand drag over Tyler’s arm as he leaves. 

Tyler slides beside me, “You having fun?” he asks me.

“Yeah,” I answer immediately, then realize it’s the truth. “Are _you?”_   I ask him and he is just smiles and smiles.

“Yep.”

Where is my grumpy Tyler? 

“Cool.  So…,”  He begins and I look up at his tone, “Josh and I are going to go get some air, but we’ll be back in a bit, yeah?” he says to me.

“Some air, huh?”  I tease.

His smile widens, “Shut up.  I have my phone so….”

“Okay sure.  I’ll be around, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Tyler says and starts toward the stairs.  I see him meet with Josh who hands him a sweatshirt before the two of them leave out the main entrance.

I stand and watch the crowd for a minute, the room is stuffy and humid and full of the exhaled air of 100+ people.  I need some air myself.  I notice a door to the right and make my way towards it.  It opens to a wide, well-lit hallway, the kitchen of the hotel is across from me and I can see the hotel staff busy inside, the sounds of dishes clattering, water running, yelled orders.  A girl is crying on a little sofa against the wall, her friend comforting her.  I keep my distance, respecting their privacy and wander down the hall.

“Not a real party until someone is comforting a crying girl, right?” I hear and turn to see Lola sitting on a chair tucked behind a potted fern.  She looks worn, sweaty, her olive skin flushed, her hair is a mess, her body paint is smeared.  She looks small and tired.  I can’t help but smile, I want to wrap her up and put her in my pocket. “You leaving?” she asks.

“No.  Just needed some space.”

“Yeah me too, walk with me?” she says.

“Sure.” 

She stands and stretches, “Oh shit,” she mutters looking back at the chair, it is smeared with yellow paint from her back. “Crap,” she laughs, looks around guiltily, “come on, let’s go,” she grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway quickly, our laughter echoing off the walls.

We find a large painfully lit bathroom, she doesn't drop my hand right away and I get a glimpse of us with our hands joined in the mirror.  Individually. we look ridiculous outside of the blacklight, but we look good holding hands.  She lets go and frowns at herself, “Wow, I look sexy as fuck,” she jokes.  I glance over at her, all wide expanses of glowing soft skin, and don’t respond, I wash my hands, pat cool water against my neck. 

Lola is wetting a paper towel, “Can you wipe this shit off my back?” she asks and I take the paper towel.  I look at the sway of her back, the dimples at the base of her spine, right above the edge of her white jeans.  I glance over and meet her eyes in the mirror and instantly blush at being caught. 

I am able to hide behind her and drag the paper towel down her back clearing away most of the yellow paint, “Okay, that’s most of it,” I tell her and fold the yellow part over.  Lola goes about cleaning her face, wiping the swirls away from her skin and I follow suit.  She leaves her lips for last and leans forward to press them against the mirror, leaving a pink kiss on the clean glass.  Then she drags the towel across her mouth, leaving her mouth clean and bare.

I wash my own face and Lola undoes her high bun, picks out some paint, but in the end just puts the bun back in, tidier, loose curls swept up again.

She takes a last look at herself, “Much better,” she says then turns to me, “come here,” she says with a smile and when I don’t move she steps closer, lifts my hair and runs her damp towel behind my ear. “I got you earlier,”  she says quietly, “left my fingerprints all over you.”

I look over at her and my heart races.

“Come on, I know where to go.”  She tells me and heads out the door.  I follow her again, because that’s what I do.

 

+++++

 

The room that houses the indoor pool is dark, lit with emergency lights up under the molding halfway up the wall, and the low lighting beneath the surface of the water.  She pushes me off to the right while she goes to the left and we round the pool on opposite sides.  The room echoes with our sounds: Our breathing, the rustle of our clothes, our feet against the cement.  I am 100% certain we’re not supposed to be in here.  “I used to work here,” she whispers but her voice carries across the water, “I was a lifeguard two summers ago.”

“Lifeguard Lola,” I whisper back and she grins. 

She swoops to dip her toes into the water and pauses, “Shit, my shoes are missing.”  She says in wonder and I laugh, she laughs too, doubling over.  The noise practically shakes the room and we clap our hands over our mouths to stifle the sound.  We round the pool and meet beneath the waterslide tower, “Let’s go up,” she suggests and starts to climb the stairs. 

I follow.

At the top of the tower, we sit and talk in whispers, hidden mostly in the shadows.  There is a stripe of pale light across her face and I watch the shadows move there as she talks to me.  She’s telling me about her day, she went to a movie with her friends, out to lunch.  She tells me about this movie and I just lean my head back and watch her mouth move around the words. 

She lays back on the platform, “Lay back with me and watch the stars,” she says dreamily, and I do, looking up at the ugly popcorn ceiling.

She sighs like a Disney princess and I laugh, “So romantic,”  I joke and hesitate at the word that escaped me.

“It is,” she agrees.  She raises her hand and points, “That’s the constellation Firus Alarmus,” she tells me, pointing out the blinking red light of the smoke detector.

I grin and point towards the green exit sign, “Exotus Emergencium,” I inform her, "my star sign."

“Wow, exotic,” she compliments, voice flat.  I huff out a laugh, smile up at the ceiling.

We are quiet and I can hear her breathing beside me.

“It was a nice party,” she says.

“It really was,” I agree. “whose _was_ it?” I ask and she looks over at me, eyebrows raised.

“What?” I ask, uncomfortable under her gaze.

She smiles slowly, “It’s _my_ party.  Jack threw it for me,” my head is a jumble of questions.

For example: _Who exactly is Jack that he is throwing elaborate neon parties for pretty high school girls?_

I decide on: “It’s your party?”

“Yeah, it’s my birthday,” she tells me.

I sit up abruptly, “Oh!” I watch her watch me, then she sits up and we slide our legs under the railing, drape our arms over the bottom rung, look down at the pale blue water.  I watch her put her cheek against her arm, watch her eyes drag over my face, they feel nice on my skin, “That explains the playlist,"  I tell her and she laughs.  "Happy birthday,” I tell her finally.

“Thanks.”

“You’re 18?” 

She shakes her head, “19,” she corrects and I scowl at the math.

She smiles again, looks away and I regret it, “Long story,” she tells me.

“Blah blah blah,” I offer.

She laughs again, nods, “Blah blah blah,” she agrees.

She looks down between us at my hand against the wooden planks and slides her hand over mine, soft and warm, those callouses on her fingertips, and my heart races.   My shoulders burn, my hips, my thighs, what _is_ that?  Her cheek is laying against her arm again, but she sits up and leans toward me and my mouth is dry. Her eyes drop to my mouth and I try to breathe normally. 

There are one thousand years inside those five seconds of movement, and my phone rings, the tone cutting through the silence enough to make us both jump. 

Lola laughs and I scramble for my phone before it can ring again.

“Hello?”

I hear breathing on the other side, “Shay?” it’s Tyler, his voice is tense.

My heart stutters for a whole new reason, “What’s wrong?” I ask him, already starting to get up. Lola’s eyes search mine, alert beside me

“Where are you?  I need… where are you?” I can hear him walking, breathing heavy.

“Still in the hotel… I’m near the pool… I’ll come back, what’s wrong?”

"Fucking… I want to go home. Peanut mother-fucking butter!” he says, his voice cracking.

 

++++++

 

I sit quietly passenger side inside peanut-butter-smelling Angelica, the music is off, and I am trying not to stare at Tyler who is driving like a madman.  “Slow down, Ty,” I say to him gently.

He doesn't answer, only sniffs and swipes at his eyes, paint smeared across his face without him knowing.  He finds those green sunglasses still on his head and throws them irritably into the back seat, but he does slow down.

“You weren’t drinking, right?” I ask again.

“I already said I wasn’t,” he snaps.

I let him be, if he wanted to tell me he would be.  I do, however, reach my hand over and place it on his arm and he lets me, the corners of his mouth turn down and he breaths deeply, but he pulls himself out of it and sniffs again.

I think of Lola standing barefoot on the curb of the hotel watching us drive away, “Call me later, yeah?” she'd said, arms wrapped around herself in the cold air, “Let me know everything is okay?  --that you got home alright?” and I had agreed.  I feel guilty for looking forward to calling her, hearing her voice on the phone.  I shouldn’t be thinking of that right now. 

Tyler drives me home and we park at the curb, I’m planning on sitting with him for a while until he wants to talk or asks me to leave or something but as soon as we pull up, I know something is off.  I can see my mom’s car parked with its front wheels on the curb, there is trash all around the car.  I pause, knowing I should walk away, but something makes me continue to the house.

“Shay?” Tyler calls behind me, his voice nervous.

“Go home, Ty,” I order him.

“Are you fucking crazy?  _Obviously_ , I’m not going home,” he calls behind me.

As I get close I see that the mess around the car is fast food trash.  I scoop it up and put it in the trash can beside the garage and that is when I notice the front bumper is caved in. 

My heart starts racing and I glance around. 

Three houses down a neighbor is standing beside her car in her pajamas, watching me.  I shoot her a dirty look and approach the front door.  It is left open and I try to see inside before I actually step across the threshold, the smell in the house makes the hair on my neck stand up.

“Mom?” I ask carefully.  There is no answer, but I hear a shuffling in the kitchen.  I hold my arm behind me to keep Tyler back, “Mom, everything okay?”

As I round the corner into the kitchen I can see the crumpled form of my mother at the bottom of the stairs.

“Fuck,” Tyler breaths behind me and tries to move forward but I keep him back.

“Just call 911,” I tell him.

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Shay finally asks for help.
> 
> Songs mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> Billy Idol "Rebel Yell"  
> Romeo Void "Never Say Never"  
> INXS "Need You Tonight"  
> DEVO "Girl U Want"
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ykx45p4s5h9ve7pl67awn1zqm/playlist/4DcVKJBKaPAkE6RNDbCFPD?si=PsKg-878SfW9KtP3UNoShA
> 
> Spoiler for trigger warning in this chapter: at the very end Shay and Tyler return to Shay's house and the car has been in a wreck, Shay and Tyler find her mother passed out and injured at the bottom of the stairs inside the house.


	8. Inside Out, Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++
> 
> My heart flutters as I consider that it could be Lola calling me, but it’s an unknown number. I hesitantly answer, look around to find that I am alone in the living room. I see Rae ushering Josh into his new bedroom where Aiden is presumably already tucked away.
> 
> “Hello?” I answer tentatively.
> 
> “Shay?” It is a woman’s voice, not Lola though.
> 
> +++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay and Tyler attended Lola's neon Halloween/Birthday party. Tyler introduced Shay to his new friends but the night ended with drama as Tyler asked to leave early and Shay arrived home to find her mother unconscious on the kitchen floor.
> 
> In this chapter: Shay asks for help, and reaches out to her father. Tyler doesn't want to talk about the details but does open up to his friends during band rehearsal. Shay ends up accidentally inviting not one, but two people to their upcoming gig.

+++++

 

“It’s 3 am,"  I hiss, I’d been ready to hang up when Jenn stopped me.

“Leave a message!”  Jennifer hisses back, irritably.  Rachel places a hand on her shoulder, pressing the fingers of her other hand against the bridge of her nose and Jennifer calms down.  Tyler yawns big and ugly from the couch in the waiting room beside me.  Jenn breaths deeply, centering herself, it's been a stressful night. “Please,” she says to me.

My father’s voice drones in my other ear from my phone.  I hate that they are watching me do this, but I understand why. I haven’t been honest with anybody about anything.  At least it’s a voicemail so I don't have to speak to him directly right now.

_Beep._

“Hi, it’s Shay,” I clear the shakiness out of my voice, “sorry I am calling so late... something happened, everybody is… okay… mom is in the hospital… she um… she had uh… a bad night.”

It feels odd to be using our old code:  _Stay outside, Shay, Mom is tired.  Mom has a headache, Shay. Mom had a bad night, go play at Marlon’s house._

I pick at the hem of my crop top, pink paint stains the edge and I think of a soft hand on my side, it’s nicer to think about that than this.  I drop the edge of my shirt, pull my shit together, “She wrecked her car and… and fell down the stairs….” 

_What the fuck am I doing?_

I sigh, “Sorry, I’m tired… I know you don't want the detail... what happened doesn’t matter… the point is that I need to talk to you about what is happening next because… yeah… I’m fine for now I have a place to stay, so it’s not an emergency.  But I’m going to need a long-term solution, so I guess we need to talk.  I’m going to go sleep now and my phone is dying, so if you can’t get me don’t worry.” _As if he would._

I hang up without saying goodbye.  Turn to face Jenn and Rea and throw my hands up like _now what?_  My attitude fucking sucks, but this is pointless. They look so tired.  I’m such a pain in the ass. 

“Okay, let’s go home,” Jennifer says with a sigh.

+++++

 

Tyler sits in the back of Rachel’s sedan with me, he is staring out the window, frowning and sleepy.

Jenn and Rachel keep trying to talk about everything, and I wish they’d fucking stop. This is nothing new, not as far as my mother’s behavior is concerned. Jenn is being optimistic about treatment, and I’m staring at my phone.  It’s 3:20 am, I can’t text Lola now.  The screen of my phone dims 8% battery.  Maybe I should text Lola really quickly. 

“I wish…,,"  Jenn starts and I look up at the back of her head.

“You wish what?” I ask and my tone is petulant.  I can see Tyler look at me out of the corner of my eye. 

Jennifer turns in her seat, “Maybe we could have talked your mom… maybe we could have helped.”

“My mom’s not going to treatment, Jenn, she never has, she never will…and even if she did it wouldn’t take, it’s not important.  I’m just worried about where the fuck I’m going to live.”

Jenn looks surprised by my tone, I feel guilty but I’m also pissed.

“Shay,” Tyler says quietly beside me.

I should apologize but I look out the window instead.

“It’s okay, Shay, I’m sorry,” Jennifer says, which just makes everything worse.  I’m literally horrible. My phone powers down.

 

+++++

 

At their house, I note that I’m walking through the front door.  I’m invited to stay and I’m using the front door, this is something I’ve been looking forward to for months, but not like this.  I stand in the center of the living room, embarrassed and feeling like an asshole while Jennifer makes up the couch for me with a blanket and pillow.  It’s what I wanted all summer and my throat closes up.  Tyler disappears down the hall and Rachel is checking on the younger kids, letting Becca know we are home.

Jenn pauses, looking over the couch, “You hungry?” she asks.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

She frowns, tilts her head, “Oh Shay,”  she says quietly and then she hugs me and I can only take a deep breath and hold it until she’s done.

I fall asleep faster than I thought I would. 

+++++

 

I wake up to a busy noisy house.  I can tell they are trying to be quiet, but quiet is not something they do well.  The first thing I see is Josh in mismatched pajamas watching Spongebob. “Hey, Posh-Josh,”  I call to him.

He turns to me, big brown eyes bright and playful, “ _Hey,_ you’re the Posh, Shay!" he tells me with a toothless grin.

“Nice come back, dude. You win,” I concede and roll on my stomach.

“You’re the Bombable Snowman, you sleep like him,” he says, turning back to the TV.

I grin into my pillow, “Do I? How does the _Bombable Snowman_ sleep?”

“ _Forever_! You missed breakfast it’s almost lunch.

“Sorry, did you eat spinach and cat poop for breakfast? It’s my favorite, did I miss it? Do you think there’s any left for lunch?”

He laughs too loudly, spinning back to face me.  I see he’s hugging his sad old floppy giraffe doll, “You don’t eat cat poop!” 

“Do _so,_ ” I argue, sitting up.  I reach for my phone and can’t find it, “have you seen my phone OshKosh B’Josh?” 

He giggles, “Tyler took it to charge it for you.” 

“Where _is_ Tyler?”

“In his room, being a _jerk,_ ” he informs me.

“I’ll go beat him up for you, JoshJosh.”

“Okay," he mutters, his brain barely tuned in to me as Spongebob teaches Squidward to blow bubbles.

I start down the hall, “My moms want you in the kitchen,” Josh suddenly remembers.

“Okay.”

I enter the kitchen and find Jenn and Rae doing dishes together, talking lowly, they stop abruptly when I speak. “Hi, Josh said you wanted to talk to me?”

Aiden and Emma look up at me from the table.  “Hey, Shay,” Emma says voice friendly.  Aiden just stares at me.

Jenn turns to me, “Hey, babe. Kids, can you go finish your food in the living room, please?”

They make themselves scarce, “Don’t make Josh cry, let him finish Spongebob!” Rae calls after them.

“You hungry?” Jenn asks.

“Yes, please.”

She dishes up a plate of mac and cheese from the stove, grabs a fork and places both onto the table in front of me.  I mutter my thanks and sit.  I try to keep my eyes on my plate and eat as they slide in across from me at the table.

“Did your dad call back yet?” Rae asks.

I hum around my food, cover my mouth so I can answer, “Sorry,” I swallow, “phone’s dead.”

Rae looks surprised, jumps up, holds out her hand, “Let me charge it, he could be calling you.”

They just don’t get it, “Tyler is charging it, I’ll check after I eat.”  Rae visibly relaxes, “He’s not calling,"  I assure her, "he’ll wait for me to call him again,” I try to explain.

She and Jenn exchange looks, “Well, maybe… you didn’t tell him what happened in the message, so…,” Jennifer starts.

“He doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter, I told him what was important.”

“I’m sure…” Rachel begins again.

My food is getting stuck in my throat, I push it away, “My dad doesn’t want me there, I’m not being difficult here.  Right now he can pretend everything is fine and still not have to deal with me.  I need a place to stay and if people will stop trying to convince my dad to help me, and just let me stay with them then he will let me do that.”

Rae looks at me, but Jenn is avoiding eye contact, I focus on her, it’s time to get to the point. “Jenn, I need you guys to let me stay here, I can talk my dad into it.”

“There’s a lot involved in that, honey,” Jennifer says to me, her blue eyes meeting mine, her voice is soft.

“I was here almost all summer and you guys didn’t even notice.”  I blurt out before I can stop myself.  I expect them to be surprised, but Jenn just sighs.

“Tyler told us yesterday, it’s okay,” Rachel tells me.

“So why can’t I stay?” my voice is desperate, childish, whining. I dont even care.

“We’re not saying no,” Rae reassures me, and even Jenn looks surprised, she’s usually the voice of reason.

“The court date for Aiden and Josh’s adoption isn’t until next month, we had to wait until Drew left for college to even do it.”

I had expressed this concern months ago and Tyler had responded, “ _There will always be room for you, don’t worry.”_  A statement he just repeated as we watched Drew's bedroom convert into a bedroom for the youngest kids.

“We’re not saying no,” Rachel says again. “We _will_ figure something out.  Let us think for a while okay?”

“Okay.” 

“If your dad doesn’t call before tonight, call him back, okay?”

“Okay, I will.” I promise.

“Are you going to eat?”

I look at my food, “It’s good, I just can’t,” I tell her honestly.

“That’s fine,” Jennifer says and takes my plate.

“Tyler’s been waiting for you.”

 

+++++ 

 

I find Tyler on his bedroom floor, slouched against the end of his bed so low that his chin is tucked against his chest.  He's slaughtering pedestrians and random citizens on Grand Theft Auto.

"Hey, that looks therapeutic."

"Thank fuck you’re awake.  I want to play Mario Kart with you before band practice," he says and runs his character in front of a semi-truck before shutting off the game.

"Jesus, band practice," the disgust is plain in my voice.

He sits up and starts shuffling through the mess of games scattered around his entertainment center, "Yeah, I'm over it too, but we have that gig next weekend."

I flop onto his bed and find my phone charging on his nightstand.  It is off but charged.  I lay on my stomach with my head near Tyler’s at the foot of the bed, turn on my phone and wait for it to perform its nonsense warm-up routine. I'm not expecting any messages, but as soon as it's done I get a series of chimes.

"Who the fuck is texting _you?"_   Tyler snarks.

"Screw you, I've _very_ popular," I argue, earning a doubtful smirk from Tyler.  "My dad maybe?"  I open my texts and find a handful of messages from Lola.

“What are you grinning about?” he asks.

_Lola_

 

_7:31 am  Hey, sorry it’s so early, I hope everything is okay with Tyler xx Lola_

 

_8:12 am  Forgot to say, text me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home and everything is okay._

 

_8:14 am  By the way, I had a really nice time last night, I’m glad you guys came to my party._

 

_9:25 am  Hey, did you forget a sweatshirt at the coat check?  I have it, I can get it to you any time. xx Lola_

 

_11:36 am  Don't mean to be weird, but just drop me a quick text, please?  Just so I know everybody is okay?  Okay, I’ll leaver alone now_

_I’ll leave YOU alone now._

_shit, sorry, typo… why would my phone think I’d say leaver there?  Jesus, someone needs to take my phone away from me._

 

"Shay?" Tyler prompts.

"Hold on," I mutter and press reply.

 

_12:45pm  Hi, Lola, everything is fine._

_Sorry I didn’t text before._

_My phone was dead._

_It got kind of dramatic after we left, but we're okay._

The response is almost immediate:

_Thank goodness, thought you were dead in a ditch!_

_Or something less obsessive sounding._

 

_Nope, no ditch.  I’m fine._

_We got home at like 4 am, long story, sorry._

_A lot going on?-- blah blah blah?_

_LOL yeah._

_I AM missing my sweatshirt, I hadn’t realized_

 

 

“Who are you talking to?” Tyler asks.

I answer without looking up, “I left my sweatshirt at the hotel, Lola has it.”

“She can bring it to school,” he tells me, “sit your generously proportioned ass down and play Rainbow Road with me.”

Reluctantly I text Lola to bring it to school. 

 _Sounds good,_  she replies.

I try to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going but Tyler is whining.  I let the conversation go quiet and take the second controller from him, "I'm Princess Peach," I announce.

"Obviously," he responds.

I watch him load Rainbow Road, but can't help but look down at my phone, hoping to see it light up with another text, "How do you know Lola?” I ask Tyler, going for casual, I can’t stop my eyes from looking down again. Still dark, no text.

He shrugs, “I don’t, really… not very well, we’ve hung out in groups… she's pretty chill... we have mutual friends," he tells me, sounding distracted by the game.  He is easily kicking my ass because I’m not paying attention.

“Who invited us to the party? Josh?” 

“Fuck Josh," Tyler mutters, “and no I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, no problem.”  It's quiet and my eyes drop to the phone again, it lays dark and still under my thigh.  I tuck it under my leg so it's out of sight but I will feel it if it vibrates.  When I look up I’ve driven off the road and I have to try to get myself back on track.

“This guy Jack invited us,” Tyler offers.

 _The Jack who threw the party for Lola?_   "How do you know Jack?”

Tyler shrugs, “Jack kind of knows everybody in that group.”  Tyler isn’t usually this accommodating, he’s not the type to play along, so he either doesn’t realize I’m digging for information or whatever happened to him is distracting him… or maybe making him want to be nice to me.

“Lola is nice,” Tyler says to me out of nowhere.  _So that answers that question._  “You can talk to me about stuff, you know… I mean I know I can be an asshole, but you can.”

I don’t dare look at him, “I know. I do. There is maybe nothing to say yet.”

“Okay,” he forces Peach off the road, “ _h_ _a! Suck it!”_ he yells at the TV.

“Same goes for you, you know,” I remind him, "you can tell me stuff."

“Yeah, yeah, can we shut up about our feelings now, Taylor Swift?  I’d like to get a full game in where I kick your ass fair and square.”  There’s my boy.

 

+++++

 

Tyler’s quiet while setting up for practice, we’ve dropped way off on how often we do this, something that pisses Marlon off to no end. We used to practice on our own every day as a group we’d meet twice a week.  Now we meet once a week _maybe_ and I haven’t sat my ass down behind my drum kit since last practice. 

Marlon shows up and gives me a hug, “Hey!  I never see you guys anymore,” he notes, “I miss you.”  His hug is genuine and I remember that I sometimes actually like him.

“I mean, I saw you Friday,” I argue, but it’s weak, I know what he means, “I know what you mean though,” I admit.

Marlon sets up his keyboard, while he yaps at me, Tyler’s phone buzzes and I watch him frown at it, mute it, and slide it back in his pocket.

Tyler, Marlon, and I start discussing the playlist.  Our plan this afternoon is to play straight through with Beth, Malik, and Rosa as our practice audience and then reassess what we need to work on.

Of course, once the rest of the group joins us we spend another hour fucking around before a single note is played.  We're so screwed for this show.

 

+++++

 

We make it one song before we are arguing, three songs in before Tyler suggests we order pizza.  We play one more song while waiting for it to be delivered.  Then it all spirals until the music is forgotten and we are plotting how we might be able to sneak a joint in the backyard.

Tyler is out getting us all pop from his fridge.  When he takes too long I go looking for him and I can see him on the phone though from the window.  He turns his back to me, but his posture tells me it's not a pleasant conversation.

Three minutes later, Tyler stalks back into the room, looking determined.  Beth is telling some elaborate story, detailing her miserable love life and Malik and Marlon are in hysterics over it.  The look on Tyler’s face makes my stomach drop.  He’s holding his phone so tightly that his knuckles are white.

He sits beside me and slides his arm through mine, "You okay?” I whisper.

“Fuck it.  I have something to tell you,” he says loudly to the group.  Beth’s sentence peters out.

“What, you and Shay finally ready to admit you’re in love?” Marlon teases.

“I’m gay,” Tyler announces confidently.

"How's Shay taking that news?" Marlon asks and everyone except Tyler and me laughs.

Tyler just looks at Mar, "No, that's... I'm saying I'm gay."

I don’t know how to explain what my body does in response to this.  Every cell seems to freeze.  I’m just staring at him as his eyes fly around the group.

Everyone gets quiet as they realize what's happening.

Too quiet.

“I mean… you might hear some stuff this week… at school… and I just want to head it off and be clear,” he stumbles, “So, yeah, gay.”

I finally regain control of my body and squeeze his arm, he squeezes me back but is still looking around the group.

“Okay,” Rosa says brightly.

“Duh!” Beth says with a scowl, “Did… were we not aware of this?” Rosa yells her name and Beth shrugs, “ _What_?”

“Dude, what’s going on, what might we hear?” Marlon asks.

“You’re _gay?”_ Malik says, voice overflowing with surprise.

Everyone looks to Malik.

“Are you _kidding_?” Beth asks.

“ _Beth!”_   Rosa yells again, “Be less stupid!”

“ _What_?!” She says, like we’re being ridiculous, I look up at her to find her looking at me like she’s waiting for me to say something.

“What?” I ask.

“Beth,” Rosa says sternly.

Tyler rolls his eyes, “I mean, I know you know…”

“I didn’t,”  Malik mutters.

Tyler ignores him and continues, “But I’ve never actually like said it to you, and… yeah, I thought it might be time to.”

“What’s going on, Tyler?” I ask him.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m not worried, I’m just sick of some bullshit so I’m doing something about it.”

I squeeze his arm again, “Okay.  Love you, dickhead.”

“Love you too, shit-for-brains.”  The moment of sweetness is short lived.  Tyler jumps into my lap and snorts in my neck making me scream before jumping to his feet, “Can we play, please?” he says, standing behind the microphone.  I go and move behind the drums, my smile hurting my face.  It has been a very weird 24 hours.

“So now Malik knows why you like such gay songs,” Marlon suggests with a playful smirk across his keyboard.

“Gay songs… what the fuck does that even mean?” Rosa asks, coming to the rescue.

Tyler though, smiles, “Little did she know,” he begins in his narrator voice deep into the microphone, “that the songs were, in fact, very gay.”

I play a helpful rimshot and Tyler laughs.

“Let’s practice that opening again, okay?” I suggest, Marlon nods and I count them off to begin.

 

+++++

 

8 pm and everyone is long gone.  The Nunez-Peterson home is winding down for the night.  Josh is in the bath, and I can hear Rae down the hall reminding him to get all of the soap out of his hair.  Becca and Tyler are on kitchen clean up duty.  Jenn is trying to help Emma understand her math homework in between lecturing her on waiting until the last minute.  Aiden is watching TV beside me as I finish reading my chapter for Civics class.  I should be making sure my paper if ready to turn in on Monday, but it’s trapped on my laptop at my mother’s house and I can’t get it until Tyler drives me there to get it after school tomorrow.

“Does mama, understand this?” Emma cries out desperately.

“Sweetheart, your mama is a beautiful human being, but she’s worse at this than I am,” Jenn says lowly.

“I heard that,” Rae calls down the hall.

I put my book down and heft myself from the couch, “I can help,” I announce as I sit on the other side of Emma. I pull her textbook over and glance over the chapter, “Multiplying and Dividing in Scientific Notation,” I read.  Emma gives me a wary look and I smile at her, “Don’t worry, we can knock this out.”

 

+++++

 

I’m checking Emma’s work as she starts on the second set of her problems (Jenn was right, she was procrastinating) when my phone buzzes.  I pull it out and find that Lola has sent me some random video clip of women in Scandinavia singing to their cows to bring them in from the fields.  Emma looks at me quizzically as their sometimes-sour notes come through my tinny phone speakers and I mute it quickly.

“Sorry,” I mutter to Emma and sit back to pull my screen out of her view.

 

_Lola_

_8:32 pm_

 

_https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KvtT3UyhibQ_

_That was random as fuck._

_The part where they tried to mount each other was educational_

_Hello to you too._

_LOL_

_Isn’t that cool?_

_Also, hi._

_Cool is a subjective term, I suppose._

_Depends on the topic._

_Singing to cows?—subjectively cool_

_Shay Dixon?  Objectively cool._

I find myself grinning at my screen.

 

 

_Lola Kamaka—the coolest… objectively._

_Just a couple of cool chicks._

_Seems like it._

_What do cool chicks do after school on Tuesdays?_

_Some of us work at bookstores._

 

“Help!” Emma calls and I glance at her paper.

“Get that under 10.”

“Oh, right!” she says, scowling at her paper.  I turn back to my texting.

 

_Crap._

_Could I come bug you?_

_At work?_

_On Tuesday?_

_It’s okay if not._

_What are you doing after school on Thursday?_

_Band practice._

_Oo!  That’s a thing!_

_It is, in fact, a thing._

_YOU have a show next weekend._

 

Tyler walks through the living room and I stop him, “Did you tell Lola about our show on Saturday?”

“No, why?”

“No reason,” I tell him and he looks at me with a glint in his eye.  I know he’s holding back on teasing me.  The dam will break eventually.  I roll my eyes and he leaves, heading down the hall.

“Goodnight, Shay,” he says, “say goodnight to Lola,” his tone is saccharine.

I ignore him.

 

_We do, yes._

_Can I come?!_

_Say yes!_

_Oh god, no.  we’re going to stink it up so badly._

_No, you won’t I want to see you play_

_I’ve been so distracted lately we are literally going to be the worst._

_Well, if you are, then we can hang out afterward and I’ll buy you a consolatory hot chocolate._

 

My heart is doing crazy things in my chest. 

This feels like I’m being asked out.  Is this a date?

I want to ask someone to decode it for me.  I look down the hall to Tyler’s room his door is open and light spills into the hallway.

Becca pads across the hall in oversized flannel pajama bottoms and I actually open my mouth to call her to come to help me, but when she makes eye contact with me I don’t say anything.  She pauses, “You need something?” she asks.

“No," I answer her and she smiles.

“Goodnight, Shay,” she says and goes into her and Emma’s room, shutting the door behind her.  I look at Emma, who is packing up her school supplies, and decide against it, she’s only 13, and asking her involves oversharing.

 

I look down at my phone and realize I’ve left Lola hanging.

 

_Or coffee._

_or... whatever._

_Okay_

I click enter before thinking, then panic.  I just agreed to let her come to our show.  My very soul is cringing.

 

_Yay!_

_I’m so excited!_

_I’m going to go start getting ready, NOW!  LOL_

_I hear noise canceling headphones are all the rage._

_More like noise MAGnifying!_

_… see because I want it louder_

_That would be like… regular headphones, huh?_

_Whatever… pretend I said something supportive and dismissive of your self-deprecation._

_Pretending complete._

 

I am grinning at my phone.

Then I’m flinching because the phone is ringing.  My heart flutters as I consider that it could be Lola calling me, but it’s an unknown number.  I hesitantly answer, look around to find that I am alone in the living room.

I watch Rae usher Josh into his new bedroom where Aiden is presumably already tucked away.

“Hello?” I answer tentatively.

“Shay?” it is a woman’s voice, not Lola though.

“Speaking?”

“It’s Cloe,” the woman says.

_My father’s girlfriend… fiancé?  My father’s Cloe._

“Um, hi?”

“Hi, Sorry it’s so late, is it too late?  I just couldn’t in good conscience let the day end without letting you know we got your message.  Your dad was super busy today, I tried to get him to call you back after we got your message, but he couldn’t get the time.” 

I feel my jaw tighten, it’s such bullshit.  His daughter calls at 3 am saying her mom, _his wife_ , is in the hospital, and that she has nowhere to live and he can’t find the time to call her back?  Not even a minute to drop a _text_ saying he got the message?

“Okay, Cloe,” I tell her flatly.

“I know,” she says quietly.

“I know you know,” I tell her.  But being mad at her isn’t the point. “I do need him to talk to me, Cloe. He can’t sweep this away, he has me trapped in this limbo where he doesn’t want me, but he won’t agree to let me go anywhere else.  I need him to make his mind up, but I’d like to speak to him first,” I tell her, “make it clear what I want.”

“I agree, hon… Shay. Sorry.”

_She knows I hate it when she calls me pet names._

“I need your help to make it happen.  I need him to talk to me, _really_ talk… and soon.”

“Okay, I will, I’ll help,” she assures me.

“Thanks.” 

“I know you have school this week, and you have a place to stay right now?” she asks.

“Yes.” 

“How about on Friday I come pick you up and you can stay with us over the weekend?  See the new house, talk to your dad, I can take you around Houston if you want.  I’m coming in Friday morning anyway to see my parents, I can just bring you back with me.”

“I have a show on Saturday,” I tell her, thankful for the excuse to not come play house with her and my shitty dad in Houston.

“A show?   Like with your band?” she says, she sounds excited and young.  I am reminded that she is almost exactly 10 years older than me and my stomach churns.

“Yeah, ‘ _like with my band_ ’,” I’m being rude, she’s being sweet and I’m being rude.

“Wow, that sounds so exciting!  Is this your first gig?”

 _Gig._ “No,” I tell her and don’t elaborate.

“That’s so fun!” she hesitates, “How about… if… I can stay longer, come on Saturday and meet you before the show, we could talk, and maybe if you felt like it, I could stay for the concert, and you could come back with me?  I could bring you back Sunday night so you don’t miss school.”

“It’s a 2-hour drive one way,” I remind her.

“It’s worth it, obviously, Shay,” she tells me, like I shouldn’t be surprised that my dad’s girlfriend might do the right thing for me.

“Can you come on Sunday instead?”

“I’d like to come Saturday night, I really don’t mind, I want to leave Sunday morning at the very latest.”

“Fine, Saturday night, we'll  be done by 9, so can we meet after the concert."  I need to just get this done, "And can you lay off trying to talk my dad into letting me move in, please?  -- just until we talk at least?"

“Okay, I'll stop, we can see how the week goes, and what new information comes up… just meet, nice and relaxed, no big deal.  I’ll buy you a late dinner… when I was in high school, my friends and I would go to a concert then get waffles at like 2 am….”

“Wow, like, last year feels so far away, huh?” I ask, sarcastically.

She is quiet, then chuckles uncomfortably, “Touche,” she mutters.

I sigh, look down the hall that is now dark, my hosts all tucked away for the night, I wish I was part of their family.

“I’ll meet you after the concert,” I agree.

“Yeah?” she says, her voice bright, “Excellent, thanks, Shay, I can’t wait!”

“Fine, call me later this week and we’ll finalize the plans, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good-b…,” I begin.

“Is it appropriate for me to ask how your mom is doing?” she interrupts.

“No,” I tell her, quickly.

“Okay.”

“Good-bye,” I tell her.

“Goodbye.” 

I hang up and stare at my phone.

 

_Lola_

_9:40 pm_

_Lola, sorry, are you still awake?_

_Yeah_

_I have to cancel for after the concert, sorry_

_Oh… can I ask why?_

_My blah blah blah_

_Do you need anything? Can I help?_

_My step-mom is coming to town, she wants to talk for a bit after the concert_

_Just like, to talk?_

_Yeah_

_How long?  I could just wait until you were done._

_Really?_

_Yeah, sure._

_Not long._

_You sure?_

_Of course!  I will owe you a hot chocolate to make up for how shitty you did._

_You will, that’s true._

_Okay, well, I will see you at school tomorrow, right?_

_Yeah, sure._

_And I’m totally going to stalk you at work._

_I’ll ask for obscure books and make you look them all up._

_Challenge accepted._

_Okay, well, goodnight, Shay-Who-is-Objectively-Cool._

_We need an Objectively-Cool-Chicks secret handshake._

_I’ll work on it._

_Okay goodnight._

_Goodnight._

+++++

It’s nearly 11 pm and I’m lying in the dark on the couch in the quiet living room of the Nunez-Peterson home, but my head is a busy busy place and sleep is far away.

We have school tomorrow.  I will see Lola and feel that situation out, evidently, some shit might be going down for Tyler that we might need to back him up on.  My mom will be released from the hospital this week and who knows where she will end up.  Who knows where _I_ will end up.  Lola at my work, my paper is due, the concert, meeting Cloe, hanging out with Lola... my anxiety is starting to spiral when I hear my phone chime.

_Lola_

_10:57 pm_

_Sorry, but I heard this and thought of you._

_More 80's music?_

_80's music is perfection!_

_But no._

_Just listen to it._

_Goodnight Shay._

_<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFmJKao123E> _

_Goodnight._

I watch the screen change to say she is offline, then pull my headphones from my backpack beside the couch and plug them into my phone.  I lay back and hear the music clear and pure, a guitar strums, it’s a quiet song, personal, sung cool, soft and smooth into my ears in the dark room.

I’m blushing already, my heart pounding away in my chest. 

 

 _Girl, you got me high, just with your eyes_  
_Every word you say, well, it's a lullaby_  
_Pull me inside out_  
_Put me upside down_  
_Silence all of the noise that I can do without_

 _You're the sweetest thing that I ever did see_  
_Like a bird taking way_  
_Tears that set you free_  
_You're the sweetest thing that I ever did see_  
_Oh yeah_  
_See, oh yeah_

 

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Shay ends up having several much-needed talks with the people in her life.
> 
> some notes:  
> I had this chapter plotted out and realized that October 11th is National Coming Out Day, so I hurried to try to get it in before midnight. I don't think I'll make it, but that's okay. Happy National Coming Out Day, Tyler Nunez!
> 
> The song Lola sends Shay is Allman Brown's Sweetest Thing and I thank Lanalin from right here on A03 for the SUPERB suggestion. I am jealous of whoever gets mixed tapes from you.
> 
> I also want to shout out to those who are commenting as they read, it's really encouraging, your comments keep me writing. 
> 
> Also sending Love to my friend Sarah... she's not on Ao3, but it's her birthday and I sampled some of our real-life conversations in this chapter. Happy Birthday, you Sweetest Thing, you <3


	9. Come undone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++
> 
> She hooks her finger under the bracelet, pressing her knuckle into my wrist, “I added more songs to that playlist,” she tells me.
> 
> “Which one?”
> 
> “The Songs To Listen To In The Dark playlist,” she says and leans on her shoulder against the wall close beside me. Her body is warm and makes me feel like I'm floating.
> 
> I keep my eyes on her fingers, long and graceful, she’s repainted her chewed up nails, blue this time, “I’ll be sure to listen… tonight… in the dark, as directed.”
> 
> She huffs a laugh, “Okay. Maybe I’ll Skype you and we can listen together?” she asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay opened up to Rae and Jenn about what has been happening.  
> Tyler came out to the group and asked for their support. Shay spoke to her father's girlfriend who agreed to hold off on convincing her father to have her stay with them until they could talk in person. She planned to meet up with Lola at a gig the next weekend. 
> 
> In this chapter: Shay ends up having several much-needed talks with the people in her life.

+++++

 

It’s lunchtime on Tuesday and it’s a surprisingly warm day for the weather we’ve been having lately.  Beth is leaning back on her elbows on the picnic bench, her face turned up at the sun, Marlon is trying to keep her hair out of his fruit cup.  We are the only people at the table so far.  Since Monday we’ve been taking turns walking with Tyler to and from classes in case he needs us to back him up. 

He still hasn’t opened up about what happened this weekend.  He technically can’t fully disclose without letting the rest of our friends know we went to a party without them, but he’s not telling me either.  Whatever happened, he was right about the consequences; word has gotten out that he’s gay and things have been a little weird.  There hasn’t been anything overt, no homophobic slurs or threats or anything, the biggest reaction is that people stop talking as soon as he enters a room, the oddest effect we have noticed is how many straight girls suddenly want to befriend him. 

Malik and Rosa took the shift from 4th period to lunch, Tyler says it’s not necessary, but he also hasn’t made us stop, so I suspect he appreciates it.  They should be here any minute.  I have been trying not to stare at Lola across the quad where she is sitting with her friends pointedly not looking at me at all.  I watch her laugh and lean into her friend and kind of want to spike my milk carton off the cement.  I take advantage of the fact it’s just Marlon, Beth and I to pose a hypothetical.

“Hey, guys?” I begin tentatively.  Beth turns her chin slightly towards me with a hum without opening her eyes.  Marlon grimaces and moves his food away from her hair again, “So… what would you think if someone seemed to… be friendly… like, outside of school, with someone, but then in school they kind of, like… ignored them?”

Marlon looks up at me and Beth opens her eyes, turning over her shoulder, “Someone is doing that?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Like friendly how?” Marlon asks.

“Like… you’ve hung out… alone and you talk on the phone or send text messages all afternoon… evening and sometimes like… all night…,” I admit a bit embarrassed.  I watch their expressions shift.  Beth’s eyebrows arch slowly in understanding, I give up the hypothetical, “Like… they’ll send songs that made them think of me, compliment me,” I feel myself blush, but press on, “shit like that… but then ignore me all day at school.”

“So this isn’t friendly, this is flirting,” Beth clarifies.

“I think so?” I admit, warily.

Marlon sits forward on his elbows, “Who the fuck is doing that to you?”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t dig, please, just answer.”

“An asshole!” Beth says with a scoff, “An asshole is who is doing that to her!”

I feel immediately defensive, even though this is what I was looking for, “Well…,”  I begin to argue, but Marlon interrupts me.

“What do you mean when you say that he is ignoring you?”

_Again with the default He._

“So, I’ll get maybe a nod or something, but sometimes it seems like they’ll change direction when they see me coming even?  Like literally hours of texting then at school the next day they act like they barely know me?”

“It sounds like they think they’re too good for you,” _maybe she is,_ “which they’re not,” Beth tells me and I can’t help but smile a little at the gender-neutral _they_ and at her defending me.

Marlon sits back, shakes his head at me, “Shay, look.  I mean, yeah it’s awesome that he’d spend time with you, I get that that’s exciting and feels good, but ignoring you at school just screams something is up.  Why would you want to be with a dude that flirts with you on the side?  He might be doing the same thing with some other girl… you’re better than being some side bitch.”  _Side bitch?_

“You should stop seeing them,” Beth says with a nod.

Where I had been feeling reassured that they seemed to agree something is off, I now feel a flood of panic at the suggestion that I cut her off, and start to backpedal, “I’m not even… we’re just talking… I just feel like I’m getting some mixed signals.”

“You’re not crazy!”  Beth assures me.

“I might be…”

“No, if you feel like something is off, trust that,” she tells me.

“There are so many guys in this school who think you’re awesome… this guy, whoever he is isn’t worth it, if he can’t appreciate you anytime, anywhere, and has to wait until you are alone, he’s a jackass,” Marlon announces with a frown and sets his juice down solidly on the table top.

“Who’s a jackass?” Malik asks as he, Tyler, and Rosa approach the table.

I make brief eye contact with Tyler, before turning my gaze back to my chicken nuggets, “Nobody, it’s stupid, nothing is happening.”

“Some guy giving Shay some shade,” Marlon tells them, his voice angry, he’s about to rally our army.

I hurry to calm him down, “No… he’s not… maybe… I’m probably just misunderstanding.”

“Do you need me to kick someone’s ass?” Malik asks, puffing up his chest, Rosa rolls her eyes, but smiles, patting him on the back.

“Oh, aren’t we badasses,” she says with a smirk, bringing a little levity to the conversation.

“I can be scrappy,” Beth informs us, unconvincingly.

“God, no, stop!  I’m sure it’s fine.”

Rosa, ever the reasonable one, sits down and unpacks her lunch as she settles in to collect data, “Okay, so shade like what?”

I shake my head, wanting to drop it, but Marlon explains, “Like some dude is flirting with Shay, but then ghosting her at school like he doesn’t know her.” I roll my eyes at how offended he is for me.

“Maybe talk to him about it?” Rosa suggests.  See?  Reasonable.  Not that I could make myself do that.

I glance up at Tyler as he sits beside me and he is scowling, “Who the fuck is this?” he asks.

“This is getting out of hand,” I complain, dropping my head into my hands.

“Fuck that, he’s a dick.  I can introduce you to five guys right now who’d be happy to talk to you anywhere,” Malik informs me.

“Right?”  Marlon agrees.

Tyler nudges my side and I just shake my head at him _later._

He blinks, gives an almost imperceptible nod, _okay._

Thankfully, if you can call it that, at this point, two girls materialize silently at Tyler’s elbow and he looks up at them in confusion, “What?”

“Hey, Tyler.”

“Hi, groupies, I’m guessing you heard the rumors?” he asks.

The girls look uncomfortable, knowing this is inappropriate but doing it anyway, “I mean… it’s whatever, it’s cool, we’ve never talked before, so we just…” the blonde begins.

“The rumors are inaccurate,” he tells them.

“What?” the girls say in unison.

“Yeah, the shocking part isn’t that I’m gay, it’s that I’m Pescatarian,” he tells them seriously, then takes a bite of his hamburger.

“Oh,” the one girl says in wonder, the other scowls in confusion, and our group dissolves into laughter.

 

+++++

 

Tyler and I are sitting in his car in the school parking lot, he’s going to drive me to work, but first I promised I’d talk to him about what is happening. I imagine Lola is probably at home right now getting ready to start texting the shit out of me.  I hate that I’m excited about it.

“Spill,” Tyler says, turning his body sideways in his driver’s seat.

I sigh and keep my eyes on my classmates walking by so I can avoid having to look at Tyler, “Lola and I have been talking.”

“Okay…”

“A lot.”

“But?”

“Then I get the feeling she’s ignoring me at school,” there is a rough spot on my jeans and I focus on picking at it.

“Okay so these texts…”

“And _talks_ , like last night we talked until 1 am.”

He looks impressed, “I thought I heard you talking out there, jeez… so… are you guys like… is this…?” 

I roll my eyes, finally looking at him, “Dude, it _feels_ like flirting.”

He smirks but then manages to school his expression again, “Okay,” he sounds a little too amused by the news.  I’m not unaware of the fact that I seldom admit out loud to doing things like flirting with girls.  Even though he knows, of course, he _knows,_ every time we talk like this, I am basically coming out to him a little more.  And he also probably suspects that this is the closest I’ve come to there actually being something between me and another girl, otherwise I would have told him before. 

I pretend it’s not happening, though, and continue, “But then at school I’ll see her and at most she’ll give me a nod… though usually, she doesn’t even make eye contact, it’s fucking weird.  I tried talking to her and she kind of looked at me confused like _why is this girl I barely know talking to me like she knows me_ it was super embarrassing and I kind of just walked away, later she acted like we’d had a nice chat.”

He frowns, “I mean this sound shady as fuck.”

“Right?”  I say, exasperated, “I mean… do you know if she’s um…  I mean… does she…”

“Ooo, the L word,”  He says dramatically, leaning his chin on his hand.  My face must give away how I feel though because he rolls his eyes and sits back again, “No I don’t know if she’s _um,”_ he says sarcastically, “I mean I guess even if I did I’m not in the habit of outing people, but I honestly don’t know… I might suspect she could be. I mean at the very least, it’s not like she’s going to kick your ass if you were to express interest in her outright… I met her through Jack and his friends, after all, and they’re at least 75% more queer than the general population.”

I think back to Lola’s party and the people I met there, the two men kissing on the dance floor and the lack of reaction from those around them.

“Either way, though,”  He continues, “if she’s being even just _friendly_ outside of school but then pretending she doesn’t know you, that’s some bullshit and whatever her issue is, it’s not your fault and you shouldn’t stress about her, just move on, I think… or at least pull back a bit.  Just let her have this space if she wants it so bad.”

I like this answer even less coming from Tyler than I did from the others because Tyler knows more about the situation. I'm about to argue and I think he senses that because he rolls his eyes, and he begins to share, “Okay so, I _might_ know what I am talking about here, okay… now please just keep this between us, right?"  I nod, "So, I’ve been seeing Josh for like two months now.”  I feel my jaw drop and snap it shut again, “He’s running hot and cold on me, not quite like Lola, I mean I know all of his friends, we go out, I met his fucking mom for Christ’s sake.  But at the party, we go out… for a walk,” he says flashing his eyebrows suggestively, “but then he gets me out there and we’re walking and talking and he just out of nowhere is like ‘I’m not ready for a relationship’ which, excuse me, I'm pretty certain we were already in one, so fuck him, okay?”  Tyler is angry, but his eyes are sad too.  He’s obviously trying to play it like he doesn’t give a shit, so I just agree with him.  “Anyway, it’s done,” he finishes and picks invisible lint from his shirt sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Ty,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “What happened that made it so people at school know?”  I ask carefully.

He smirks a little, shrugs again, “So I might have screamed at him in the park in front of a bunch of our classmates, so there’s that.” 

I can’t help but smile, “Good. Scream at him all you want.” 

“Oh, I’m done with that, I’m not talking to him at all, and you should do the same with Lola.” 

I’m about to argue that it’s different when my phone chimes. I open it to find a text from Lola.

 

_Hey, what time do smart pretty cool girls start their shift at the bookstore?_

_I have your sweatshirt_

_and I need an obscure book_

_about outboard motor maintenance..._

_In German_

"Ugh, stop smiling at your phone, you're supposed to be distancing yourself," Tyler sighs, "here, gimme that." He snatches it out of my hands, “Oh god, she’s charming, can I tell her to piss off?" he asks, holding the phone out of my reach.

"No!"

"Is there sexting on here?" he asks with wild glee, scrolling up our conversation.

"Give me my phone, asshole!"

He grins and hands it back and I quickly check to make sure he didn't send anything. He didn't.

 

_From 2 to closing._

_I'm going to stalk the shit out of you.  Get ready to get leered at._

I consider writing _I might not call the police if you do,_ but Tyler is leaning over my shoulder watching me, "Remember, she's not like this at school... back off a little, at least make her work for it... let her know you've got the message."

“How?”

“Okay, so, write, _I’ll be super busy, just drop it off now, I’ll get it when I come in for my shift.”_

I frown at him, I _want_ to see her!  I do what Tyler says, though, and write the text.

She responds, _Oh, okay, sure._ My heart clenches.

I just stare at my phone for a minute before locking it and putting it away, "Thadda girl," he tells me, "so let’s listen to music until I have to take you to work, give her some time to deliver your sweatshirt.”

I sit back and watch him mess with his phone, Caesars’ “Jerk it Out” comes on and I raise my eyebrows impressed.  “Remember when I spent like a month learning how to play this?” I ask him.

“How could I not?  You did it in my garage, my moms were ready to kill you.”

“We should play together again,” I tap the beat on my thighs, “like, for fun, we never do that anymore.”

He nods, “We should.”

He turns it up and I'm air drumming, he starts singing and before long we’re screaming the lyrics pretending other people can’t see and hear us in his car.

 

+++++

I walk into the bookstore feeling much lighter, and immediately see Fern at the counter, “Hey, Fern, how are you today?”

“Eh, fine… um… Shay…,” she says as I pass her.  I pause at her tone and see her eyes dart over to the café seating where I see Lola sitting with my sweatshirt on the table in front of her.

_Fuck._

I need to pass by her anyway, so I go ahead and start walking, “Wow, you look excited to see me,” she says uncomfortably. 

She’s sitting there, big eyes looking up at me, so pretty in the sunlight, that rainbow scarf around her neck., hands fidgeting with my hoodie, and I’m going to chicken out.

“I’m excited to see you,” I mutter and glance over to see Marc slowly wiping down the counter as he watches us, he snatches his eyes away, but Emily is working the café with him and she’s still peering at us.  I turn my body away from them to gain some privacy, “Of course I’m excited to see you.”

Her eyes search mine and I have to look away from her, “I brought your sweatshirt,” she says, but doesn’t make any move to hand it to me.

“Thanks,” this is getting really uncomfortable.

“Not as busy as you thought it would be?”  she asks, looking around the near-empty store.

_Fuck again._

“Yeah.”

She sighs, “Is something wrong, are you upset with me?”

“No,” I answer too quickly.

“Should I go?”

 _Please don’t._ “Nah, you can stay if you want,” I shrug.

“I won’t bug you, I’ll just do my homework, and if you can talk then come talk?”

“Okay,” I catch Marc watching us again and he looks away quickly, “I need to go clock in.”

“Okay,” she says warily. I feel bad, why the fuck do _I_ feel bad? 

 

+++++

 

I’m doing morning receipts, trying not to watch Lola 20 feet from me.  She’s reading and writing things in a notebook but she’s also watching me, it’s distracting, “You already did this stack,” Fern informs me, pulling them from my hand and turning the computer screen to face her.

“Fuck, sorry,” I mutter and look up to see Lola fighting a smile.  I can’t help it, I smile back.

“You’re distracted,” Fern mutters, her eyes flicking to Lola. “You want to do restacks and I’ll finish this?” She’s annoyed with me, but she’s still so damn nice.

“Yeah, okay,” I snatch my phone and slide it in my pocket as I push the restack cart from behind the counter.  I glimpse Lola, but she has her nose back in her textbook.

Not even a minute later, my phone buzzes and I get a little thrill, fairly certain it’s Lola, but it’s not a text, it’ a call, and caller ID says it’s my mom.  My adrenaline spikes, rushing hot down my spine.  My brain quickly puts facts together, as it tends to do when dealing with my mother:  She has her cell phone back, which was left at home, so she’s been released from the hospital, she waited until after school which might be chance, but might indicate that she’s semi-aware, she _did_ call me at work, but chances are she doesn’t even remember that I have a job anyway.

I glance around before putting the phone to my ear, stepping behind the stacks, “Hello?”

“Shay, it’s mom.”

“Yeah?” I can’t help the unimpressed tone to my voice.

I hear her breathing, “I’m home,” her voice is clear, if cautious, cautious is good, it means she’s sober and in her penitent mode.  Now is when I take advantage and get shit done.  She’s still talking, “My wrist hurts like hell, but otherwise…” 

_Are we shooting the shit right now?  Seriously?_

“I need your permission to live somewhere else.  Can you write something or something for me?  Right away?”

“To… to live somewhere else?”

“I’m not moving back in with you.  Dad is dragging his feet, he won’t commit, Cloe wants me to live with them, but I’m not doing that.  I need you to like, write something for me, just put it in my room.”  I have no idea if it will have any kind of weight if needed officially, but it's  _something._

“Are you doing okay?” she asks quietly.

“Will you do it?”  I ask, looking around, there is a woman looking at me and I step into the back room, shutting the door behind me.

“I… yeah… I can do that.”

“Good, please do it right away.”

“I will.  I’m going to go to rehab,” she announces.  I’m surprised but I refuse to admit it.

“Do whatever, it has nothing to do with me.”

“I’m just waiting for a space to open up.  They adjusted my medication, and…”

“I don’t…”  I stop myself, “just write the letter please, don’t fuck me over.”

“I will, Shay.”

“I’ll be there at some point before Friday for the rest of my stuff, I’ll get it then.”

“Okay.  You’re doing okay?”

“It would be nice if you weren’t there when I come to get my shit.”

“I… I understand why you’re mad, Shay.”

“You do, huh?” 

_Don’t fucking say you’re sorry._

“I’m…” 

I cut her off, I can't listen to her apologize, “I’m at work, I need to go.”

“Okay, just… my therapist suggested that Alanon might be good for you, they even have teen meetings.”

“I kind of feel like I’ve given enough time and energy to this bullshit, don’t you think?”  I always turn mean when she’s sober, because I know she won’t be mean back, she’s vulnerable and I use it to attack.  I feel both relief and horror at the way I speak to her when we get to this place.

“Alanon is for you, not me.”

“I need to go back to work.  Write the letter.”

“I will, right away.  Please just let me… or someone, know where you are and what you’re doing so I know you're safe.  I know you don’t think I give a shit, but I do.”

“Bye, mom.”

“Okay, bye, Shay.”

I hang up. My hands are shaking.  I feel sick.

I breathe deeply, my heart pounding.  My eyes sting but fuck that nonsense.  I have shit to do.

_Everything in its fucking place, Shay.  Put it where it belongs._

I drink heavily from the break room sink, sticking my face right under the faucet.  I put my phone back in my pocket and shake out my hands. 

I close my eyes, imagine a house with lots of rooms.  It’s a technique I learned to help me study, but sometimes I use this house to store other things too. 

I walk by the rooms. 

Work.

School.

Bills.

The band.

Friends.

Lola.

Mom.

_Put it where it belongs._

I used to be better at this, but everything is too close these days, I’m getting dizzy darting from room to room.

I don't even bother to finish the exercise, I skip the part where I picture where I put it in the room, I essentially just throw it in and slam the door.

I take a minute to look out the window.  A line of crows on the telephone lines.  Keen eyes peering at the world around them.  There is one looking back in the window at me, head turned, watching me.

I walk back out to the stacks and find everything as I left it.  I go back to shelving books. My heart slowing.  I push everything away and focus on _now._  

Do the thing that needs to be done now.

Next thing is next.

“Hey,” I hear and turn.  Lola is smiling but her smile fades, she sees something in my face, my eyes, my body language, “You okay?”

I shake my head, smile back, “I’m fine, blah blah blah.”

She flashes a weak smile at our inside joke, “You sure?”

I nod, schooling my face, “Yes.  I’m sure, so, hi.  Can I help you with something? --customer I don’t know?”  I ask, my voice loud and forced, I wink sarcastically at our secret and she grins.

She twists her hands in front of her, her toe of her shoe turned in, sometimes she almost looks shy and that blows my fucking mind, “That outboard motor book…” 

“In German?”  I finish for her.

She bites her lip and I can’t look away. “Yeah, that.”

 

+++++

 

Lola sits closer, moving to the bench at the table against the front window.  She chats with me between periods of customers and her actually doing her homework.  Fern is unhappy if her silence and slight frown are anything to go by, but she can't complain officially.  I’m getting my work done, Lola backs off as soon as anyone comes in, and having friends and family in to visit is nothing new here.  The owners outright encourage it, actually.  Marc’s girlfriend come in almost every afternoon he works and actually sits _behind_ the coffee counter, often while our boss is right there beside them chatting about politics or whatever the fuck they chat about over there with each other and the regulars.

At 4 I take my break and Lola follows me through the breakroom and out into the alley. 

Just moments ago we were talking comfortably, now that we are tucked away alone in the small back garden of the shop, our conversation is suddenly stilted. 

I lean against the bricks, pick at the hem of my shirt.

_Cue default weather talk._

“It’s so pretty out.  I love sunny fall days.” 

“Me too.”  I agree.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?”

“A disenfranchised youth,” I inform her promptly.

“Convenient. Topical,” she nods in approval.

“Dude, you don’t even know,”  she smiles at that, touches my bracelets and I look at her fingers moving them so the beads line up just so.

“How about you?”  I ask her.

She shrugs, “We’re not doing anything that makes dressing up necessary this year.”

“Me neither,” my voice is thick and I clear my throat.

She hooks her finger under the bracelet, pressing her knuckle into my wrist, “I added more songs to that playlist,” she tells me.

“Which one?”

“The _Songs To Listen To In The Dark_ playlist,” she says and leans on her shoulder against the wall close beside me. Her body is warm and makes me feel like I'm floating.

I keep my eyes on her fingers, long and graceful, she’s repainted her chewed up nails, blue this time, “I’ll be sure to listen… tonight… in the dark, as directed.”

She huffs a laugh, “Okay.  Maybe I’ll Skype you and we can listen together?” she asks.

I am nodding before I decide to, “Sure.”

This thrill feels dangerous… and familiar. I look up at her looking at me from under those damn eyelashes.  Looking all fond of me and shit.  Damn it. 

_Every fucking time._

Tyler was right.  _Shit._

I prepare myself to address this but before I can, she speaks, “Fern likes you,” she says eyebrows raised.

“I know,” I say distracted, and then realize what I’ve said, I shake my head, “I mean…”

“Oh, you know huh?  It’s like that?” she says.

I’ve already embarrassed myself, I can either backpedal or go all in, I raise my chin, cocky, give her a smirk, “It’s like that,” I agree.

“Well, she needs to watch herself,” Lola informs me.

“Yeah?  Why?” I narrow my eyes at her, force myself to maintain eye contact.

This time she looks away first, eyes dropping to her feet, she smiles, shrugs, “Need to make sure she’s good enough for you,” she says matter-of-factly. 

My heart swells, but my head immediately reminds me, _Fern would talk to me at school._  

“Why didn’t you just give me the sweatshirt at school?”  I hear myself ask abruptly.

Her body tenses, “What?”

_Gotcha._

“Why didn’t you just bring it to school?”

She let’s go of my bracelet, I can still feel where her fingers touched my wrist.  “I kept forgetting it at home,” she explains.

“Whatever, I literally texted you a reminder right before school.”

“I’m forgetful,” her tone is turning defensive, she steps away, creating more space between us.

I’m tempted to back off, missing the proximity, but I push forward, “We should have lunch at school tomorrow together.”

Silence, “Sure.”

I try to hold her gaze, her eyes are challenging, but she looks away first, “Are you… are you ignoring me at school on purpose?”  I finally ask her.

She doesn’t look surprised, she looks… caught, actually. “What?  Why would I do that?”

I shrug, “I don’t know… you just seem different at school.”

Lola snorts, “No I’m not _ignoring_ you, what are you talking about?”

My resolve wavers, maybe I _am_ imagining it, what am I doing? I’m going to fuck this up by being paranoid. “Are you sure? Because it’s felt weird.”

“Nothing is weird, you dork,” she scoffs and shoves my shoulder playfully.

I’m not convinced she’s telling the truth, but I’m not convinced she’s not either and I’m anxious at how this could turn out if I’m wrong.

“Let’s eat together tomorrow,” she suggests.

This sounds promising, I feel my anxiety melting away, “Okay.”

“Maybe we can go have lunch off campus, my treat,” she says brightly and my mood drops again.

 _Off campus?_  She’s still effectively avoiding me at school. _God-damn it._

“Sure,” I agree.  What else can I do?  I’m going to lose her if I’m not certain.

The mood is decidedly different after that, she stays further away, keeps her hands to herself and I miss her.  I regret bringing it up.  I just want her hands on me again, her warmth pressed against my shoulder.

She leaves after my break, gathering her things and assuring me she’ll Skype me later to listen to that playlist.  This is said loudly in front of Fern and I’m certain that’s not a coincidence.

 

+++++

 

Tyler picks me up to drive me home after closing, he smells like popcorn and keeps complaining that the syrup from the soda machine is making him break out.  His skin is perfect as usual though, he just likes to complain.

“Did she bring your sweatshirt?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“Did you see her?”  I hesitate and I can almost hear his eyes roll, “Did you talk to her?”

“Yes.”

“About ignoring you?”

“Yes.” 

He hums in surprise, “Okay, progress, what did she say?”

“That… she’s not?—ignoring me?”

“Ugh, Shay, you pushover.  What was it, the curls?  Is that what did you in?  Was she all clever and sweet?  They’re good at that, these _people_ we find.  Ugh, boys suck,” he growls, confirming that we are no longer talking about me.

“That’s why I gave them up,” I tease.

He nods, “It’s for the best, seriously.  I’m the last good one,” he announces, confidently, “and you can’t have me… shit luck for both of us.”

I nod earnestly. 

 

+++++

 

After dinner, I update Rae and Jenn on what is going on with my situation, remind them that I am meeting with Cloe on Saturday and inform them that my mom is home.  The announcement is less impactful than I thought it would be because Rae lets me know my mom called them too.

I imagine how that conversation went and how they probably fell for all of it, the apologies, the tears, the promises, the heartfelt thank-yous for cleaning up her fucking mess… again.  “So we’re all working towards the best solution, and we’ll find a good answer, okay?” Rae says, "So don't worry."

I just nod, Jenn speaks up now, “Your mom told us that there are some Alanon meetings nearby that might be helpful for you.  We looked into it and agree it might be a good idea.”

I don’t answer, just clench my teeth, I can’t afford to be a smart-ass to Rae and Jenn like I was to my mom, “I’ll think about it,” I tell them, keeping my voice even.

“There’s one tomorrow night, and one on Saturday at noon.  I’m going to be taking Josh for a haircut in the area, so I can drop you off.”

“Maybe,”  I say.

“Just one, to try it out?”

“Okay!”  I say too forcefully, she startles a little, “Sorry.  I’m sorry.”  I chew on the inside of my cheek, “Sorry, stressful day.”

“That’s okay,”  Jenn says and she hugs me and I let her.  In fact, when we all sit in the living room to watch TV, Jenn pulls me down beside her and I let her pull me against her shoulder and the cuddle feels so good it makes my stomach ache.  I might be fucked up, but I’m not so fucked up that I don’t know that that’s a fucked-up way for my body to react to something that feels good. 

_Fuck my mom._

_Fuck my fucking dad._

I force myself to snuggle closer, let her pet my hair until the ache fades away.

 

+++++

 

I’m settling into bed, laying in the dark on the couch, waiting for the last of the sounds of the Nunez-Peterson family winding down for the night.  I can feel butterflies starting to stir at the idea that as soon as all is quiet I can open up my phone and text Lola to skype, but my phone lights up right there in my hands with a text.

 

_Hey, sorry no Skype tonight, my roommates are home and want to hang out._

_Listen to the new song.  Right away I thought to share it with you._

_I’ll see you tomorrow._

All I can say is _Okay._

 

_Goodnight._

_Goodnight._

I put my headphones in and open up her Spotify playlist.  She sent it to me last Sunday night and has since added to it, she claims they are perfect songs to listen to in the quiet in the dark with headphones on, hence the name, and she’s not wrong.

 

 _There's still something there_  
_Between the wires that you're scared of_  
_All the things you're not aware of_  
_But you know, you know you feel_  
_You belong to me and I belong to you_  
_And so on and so on again we go on_  
_As if nothing else were real_  
  
_And I need you behind the gun_  
_I'll be the one to come undone_

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: The day of the gig and all that goes with it.
> 
> Song mentioned in this chapter (as well as chapter title source):  
> On and On "Behind the Gun"
> 
> Here is my favorite Spotify playlist, I use so many of the songs I thought I should just share it.  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ykx45p4s5h9ve7pl67awn1zqm/playlist/4DcVKJBKaPAkE6RNDbCFPD?si=3SEPwivoTbSVeZ911Wyoug
> 
> Thanks to the Ao3 FB page and its people for helping me figure out the conversation with Shay's crew. Some of the advice given to Shay is word-for-word what they said they'd say to her.
> 
> Thanks to my readers, especially the ones who comment on each chapter as they read, that's always fun to watch.


	10. No consolatory hot cocoa for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++  
> “I have shit to do,” I tell her.
> 
> “Everything is going to be okay, Shay,” Rae says.
> 
> I smile, it’s tight on my face, I suddenly remember Kelsey’s face in the café, “I know,” I tell her, "busy weekend,” I tell her. I can feel her eyes on me but I just watch out the side window, relax my body into the seat.  
> Casual.  
> Everything is fine.
> 
> +++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay asked her friends for advice about Lola ignoring her at school, they suggest she back off and move on from her. She confronted her mother about moving out, and Lola about her behavior, but in the end caved because she was uncertain if she was reading her correctly.
> 
> In this chapter: Rae and Jenn force Shay to get some help, she finds it in an unexpected place. Clout from Grandma's Closet performs the Fall Festival. Shay and Cloe get real with each other.
> 
> not sure if needed, but TW: issues with alcoholism see end-notes for spoilers on this trigger warning.

+++++

 

I’ve got so much shit to do, but I find myself in Rae’s sedan staring out of her foggy window at the outside of a church, of all things, at noon on a Saturday, “I’m a Secular Humanist,” I remind her.

“This is just where it’s held, it’s not religious… necessarily.”

“Necessarily?” I ask, looking at her skeptically.

Rae leans over and looks at the building, “Maybe we should have planned to go with you the first time.”

“Oh God no!” I burst out, horrified, she raises an eyebrow, “I mean this is embarrassing enough.”

“Just try it once, okay?  If you don’t like it, that’s fine, maybe counseling would be a better idea.”

I sigh, lean my head against the cool window, “Counseling?”

“Counseling is okay,” Josh offers from the back seat.

I turn over my shoulder to see him in his booster seat in the center of the back seat, “Is that right Splish-Splosh Josh?” He nods sagely.

I keep my eyes on him, make faces at him while Rae keeps talking, “I’ll be back here in about an hour, the hair salon is just a few blocks away, if we’re early we’ll be over at that park.  We’ll just meet you there?”

“Now, don’t look too different after your haircut, or I’ll have to start calling you Splish-Splosh Frank,” I warn Josh.

“Frank?!” he laughs, “No way!”

“Here,” I grunt, stretching over the back seat, “one more head rub for good luck,” I say and reach across the back to ruffle his hair.  He usually shoves my hand away, but this time he wrinkles his nose and leans into it.

“You’re going to be a good big sister,” Rae tells me, the words are like a bucket of ice over my head.  I glance at her before getting out of the car, she presses her lips together, “see you in an hour.”

“You’re gonna be a big sister?!”  Josh says excitedly, “Will the baby live with us?”  Rae rolls her eyes in exasperation and I slam the car door shut.  I hope she will drive away, but she just watches me.  I have no choice but to enter the building where the sign says “Alanon,” with an arrow.

She keeps watching me so I continue down the hall, I had every intention of slipping back outside again once she drove away, but she obviously suspected as much, so I’m stuck.  I hear some laughter and talking in a room at the end of the hall and stop walking, I am not up for this. 

I duck down the hall to the right and can see Rae’s car driving away.  I wander down through the empty church hallways, past darkened offices and a preschool room with bright decorations and a mural of Jesus and a lamb on the wall.  There is a main hall with flowers and a desk and table with pamphlets and double doors.  I glance around before pressing through the double doors and find the dark sanctuary. 

The ceiling is high with tall colorful stained-glass windows and hard wooden bench seating.  I park myself toward the back and pull out my phone.

I’m quickly sucked into the rabbit hole of YouTube and almost miss when the side doors fly open and two women come bustling in.  I quickly darken my phone, but not quickly enough.  The first woman notices me and freezes, peering into the shadows at me. 

The second woman doesn’t notice and continues towards a door at the front of the sanctuary, “Hello?” I hear, and my heart plummets, I know this girl, her high-pitched voice, her blonde bob, her oval face and big round eyes, it’s fucking Kelsey Russell. 

_Of all people._

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” she informs me.

I collect my things quickly and mumble my apologies. 

“Shay?” she says, sounding confused.

“Yeah. Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“That’s okay,” she said, still scowling as if trying to figure me out, “what are you doing here?”  My eyes dart towards the door against my will and her expression softens, “Were you coming to the Alanon meeting?” she asks.

I scratch my arm and hesitate, glancing at the woman who is waiting by the door, her arms full of books.

Kelsey turns to the woman, “Hey, I’m going to talk to my friend here, I’ll see you next week, okay?”

_Friend?_

The other woman smiles and excuses herself and I start to argue that she doesn’t have to stay, but she waves me off.  I honestly have zero interest in talking to Kelsey Russell, I couldn’t have less in common with her… or… so I thought.

Kelsey sits primly beside me, “It’s pretty in here, isn’t it?” she asks, looking up at the exposed beams above us.

I shrug, I know she’s religious, “Is this your church?”  I ask just for the sake of something to say.

“No.  I came to a wedding here once though,” she says.

It’s awkward, this is awkward, “You don’t have to stay…”

She cuts in, “I know we’re like… not friends, and we don’t know much about each other.  I know Meg likes you, never said anything about you that wasn't complimentary.  She once said you were going through some stuff… don’t worry,”  she interjects quickly, “she wasn’t gossiping, Meg’s not like that, not like me," she rolls her eyes, laughs a little too loudly at her self-deprecation.  She settles back in the pew like she’s settling in for a long conversation. 

I look longingly at the door then sit down also, “Yeah…”  I say noncommittally. 

Kelsey props her hands on her knees, shrugs one shoulder uncomfortably, looking vulnerable and serious, “Listen, I’m not really the girl people go to when they need someone to talk to, I’m not, like… I know who people see me as… and they’re not wrong, I guess…” I feel like I should reassure her but I don’t know anything other than rumors and first impressions, none of which are especially flattering.

“Kelsey, I don’t know anything about you.”

She grins, but it doesn’t quite make it to her eyes, “Well, let me tell you, then, people think I’m an airhead,” she says, “an airhead and a gossip, and… shallow… and okay, so, I might not be the smartest… and yeah sometimes I’m a gossip and I make more mistakes than not, it seems… but there are certain things I’d never tell other people if I knew them,” she assures me.

“Okay…”

“If you ever, like… needed to talk about stuff, this group is safe and I’d never say anything I heard in that room… or…” she suddenly digs into her purse, it’s baby blue and matches her ruffled shirt.  She thrusts a strip of paper at me, it’s worn and folded over and contains a list of first names and phone numbers.  Some names are underlined or have stars beside them, some crossed out, other names and numbers penciled in, “this is my copy, but I can get a new one, it’s a list of everyone in the group, you can call anyone on that paper at any time and they will talk to you or put you in contact with someone who can, they’ll pick you up, drive you somewhere, take you somewhere like… safe… help you find a place to crash, help you find help...  seriously _anything_ , like no questions asked if you didn’t want to tell them _._ ”  I look at the list and her hand darts into my field of vision to tap beside her name, “That’s me, even if you don’t want to tell me personal stuff, which I _totally_ get… we could like… meet for coffee, or something if you just need company.”

“Okay… thanks,” I mumble and refold the paper before holding it in my fist.

“They have good coffee, across the street, do you want to go get some?” she asks, turning to smile brightly at me, her smile feels like an attack, it feels put on, a switch from the version of herself she was just moments before.

“Okay,” I agree without planning to.

We spend the next 45 minutes at a café across from the church, sitting beside the window.  Kelsey is mostly babbling about nonsense, I barely get a word in edgewise, but I’m okay with that.  She talks about school and gossips quite a bit, but she seems sweet and excitable, she might be telling the truth about not telling anything she hears in that room, but it becomes apparent that she wasn’t in that room when she heard the stuff she’s telling me during our time in the café. She also talks about Kyle, apparently the two of them have started seeing each other and she’s pretty excited about it.  A small part of me wonders how the hell Kyle moved form me to Kelsey, but good for him… I guess.

“My mom is an addict,” she tells me suddenly, sipping her hot cocoa.

I am halfway through a drink of my sweet tea and pause with the straw still between my lips.

“She’s doing well right now, but she had some trouble last year, she didn’t relapse, but she went to this rehab center she went to before… just for a bit just to like… get back on track, or whatever, and she’s doing okay right now.”

“Oh,” is all I can think to say.

“I’m glad I have my dad when things get rough,” I look down at my tea, play with my straw, “it’s important to have someone when things get like… bad,”  she tells me, “you know? --and it’s okay to walk away,”  I look up at her and she leans forward, “nobody tells people that, that it’s okay to take care of yourself, but it totally is.”

I can’t stop staring at those big blue eyes of hers, they are telling me everything right now and I just feel myself nodding.  She sits back abruptly and her face switches back to that excitable happy mask of hers, she smooths her hair, “This is the best hot chocolate in all of Austin, I swear it is!” she bubbles, and I have a bit of whiplash from her mood change.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch movement and see people coming from the church, and there at the sidewalk is Rae’s car, I can see her turned watching the people leave the building, “Oh hey, my ride is here,” I say, standing up to get my jacket.

“Oh, hey, wow, I’m just jabbering away here!”  she practically yells and laughs loudly.  She gathers her things to follow me out the door.

Rae looks confused when she sees me, and her eyes move past me and land on Kelsey who is grinning and waving wildly at her, “Hey wow, you look like your mom,” I hesitate, looking at Rae in her car window, she just blinks back at me, neither of us correcting Kelsey who is just waving happily at Rae, “ _Hiii_!”  she sings to her and Rae scowls a little before waving weakly back. Kelsey leans down hands on her knees, “Oh my God, is that your brother? He’s so cute, oh my God!  Hi, in there, cutie!” she yells at the back window and Josh grins and waves back.

Rae is looking at me, amused and confused, I need to make my escape, “Hey, thanks, Kelsey, I’ll see you around.”

She straightens up again, “Oh, yeah! Totally!  And use that list if you need it, okay? B _yyye!”_

I nod and slide into the passenger seat and fasten my seatbelt, I see Rae hesitating to ask questions, “I was going to skip the meeting,” I confess, “but I know her, and she was there and we went to talk at the café instead.”

“Oh,” Rae glances back at Kelsey who is now bouncing her way down the road, she looks back to me, “was it… did it help?”

I glance back at Kelsey again, climbing into a little baby blue VW bug that happens to match her entire outfit, “Yeah, actually.”  I turn back to Rae, “Can we stop by my mom's house?  I need to get a few things.”

“Oh, okay, sure.”

+++++

I text my mother before coming home, ask her if she can please not be there, but she doesn’t answer, and when I arrive, she is already standing by the open door, a cast on her arm and I'm not at all surprised that she didn't do as I asked.

“Shay… Rachel, please come in,” she says, overly bright, it makes my skin crawl.

I turn to see Rachel standing beside me, Josh standing beside her, that’s a bad idea, “You and Josh should stay in the car, I’ll be quick.”

“I think we should come in, Shay,” she says and moves past me.

The house is clean and bright, the curtains all open, where usually they are tightly closed, “Oh I haven’t seen you in ages!”  my mother says, all chipper and excitable, she’s embarrassed, she’s playing a part, “Would you like coffee, Rachel?” my mother asks, “We can catch up a bit.”

I cut in before Rachell can answer, “We need to go, actually.” 

My mother’s smile fades a bit, “Oh, okay, yeah.”  Her attention slides off of me, “Hi, there!  Aren’t you a sweetheart?”  my mother is addressing Josh who smiles warily at her and I want to stand between them.  She needs to stay the fuck away from him.

“Stay with your mom,” I tell him and he nods, I start up the stairs but come to a halt when I hear what she says next.

“Since you guys are here,” my mother breaks in, “could you help?  They sent me a prescription, but I can’t open the bottle, not sure why they wouldn’t think of that, I can’t open it with this cast.”  My mother vanishes into the kitchen and returns with a prescription bottle.

I move the three stairs back down, “What kind of prescription?”

“For the pain… for my arm,” she says, looking at the bottle.

I snatch the bottle away and read the label, I scoff, “They gave you _narcotics?”_ I shove them back at her, “Chew them open if you need to, we’re not opening them for you,” I turn to go up the stairs.

_Fucking idiots._

“Shay,”  Rae says quietly.

“I just need to grab my laptop, then we’re leaving,” I say confidently, catching Rae’s eye.

A look I can’t quite place passes over my mother’s face… no, I can place it, it’s guilt… but I’m not sure why, “I’m sorry, Shay,” she says to me.

“Why? What?”  I begin, her eyes flit towards the upstairs, “What did you do?” I ask her and move towards the stairs.

She holds her hands up, trying to calm me, “I ordered you a new one, it will be delivered straight to Tyler’s home by Friday…”

“What did you _do?”_   I ask again and rush to my bedroom. I haven’t been there since before Tyler and I found my mother at the bottom of the stairs.

I hear Rae call my name nervously, but ignore her.  My bedroom door is damaged, “It was unlocked,” I mumble half to myself.

“Josh, go to the front porch,” I hear Rae say to him.

“I’m sorry, I… I  _am_ replacing the computer, I promise,” my mother is saying, the laptop is sitting on the bed, looking as it did when I left it, but when I open it, the screen is broken, shattered, “My medication was…”

“The door was _unlocked!”_   I tell her as if that’s the fucking point.

“I’m going inpatient next weekend,” she’s explaining, “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I couldn't remember where you were, I came to find you and... I didn’t even know you had a laptop…”

“It was a gift.”

“From _who_?” my mother asks, tone sharp. _T_ _here she is._ This has nothing to do with medication or even alcohol, it's just her being mean as a fucking snake.

I gather the laptop up in my arms and step past her into the hallway where Rae is standing watching us.

“ _Who_ gave you a laptop, _Shay?”_   her voice is full of accusation and I can only imagine what she’s thinking, I feel my mother’s hand on my arm, grip tight, then Rae’s voice is sharp and she lets go.  I don’t stop until I’m in Rae’s car.

My chest is tight, my hands are shaking.

I close my eyes.

_I am walking through my house._

_“My house has no key,” I’d told Lola that night._

I shake my head clear, slow my breathing:

 

_I walk through the house in my mind,_

_There are many rooms._

_Shit to do._

_Everything in its place._

_In its fucking place._

_Put it where it belongs._

_Doors._

_A door for work._

_For school._

_For bills._

_The band._

Rae climbs in beside me, she is talking to me, but I shake my head again, _hold on just one second_.

 

_A door for t_ _he band._

_For friends._

_Lola._

_Mom._

_Put it where it belongs._

 

_A line of crows on the telephone line._

 

_Do the thing that needs to be done now._

_Next thing is next._

I open my eyes, Rae is driving, I hear Josh’s voice in the back, asking questions, he’s concerned, confused, “I had a paper on this laptop, it’s worth 50% of my grade for the quarter, it’s due Monday.”

“I can call the school…”

I put my laptop into my backpack between my feet, and go back to watching midday Austin slide past my window, my voice is calm when I continue, “I have part of it… I can try to rewrite it… let me try before… if I can’t get it done, then I’ll let you call, thank you.”  I tell her, “What time is it?”  I glance around like there will be some wall clock hanging in Rae’s car, “I have…”

Work.

School.

Bills.

The band.

Friends.

Lola.

Mom.

“I have shit to do,” I tell her.

“Everything is going to be okay, Shay,” Rae says.

I smile, it’s tight on my face, I suddenly remember Kelsey’s face in the café, “I know,” I tell her, "busy weekend,” I tell her.  I can feel her eyes on me but I just watch out the side window, relax my body into the seat.  _Casual.  Everything is fine._

+++++

We have 30 minutes until we go on, Tyler and Marlon are jabbering away with Beth, Rosa, and Malik where we sit beside the stage and I’m looking at my phone, considering texting Lola, I last spoke to her this morning where she wished me luck _see you later tonight_ she had written to me.

 _When_ tonight, though?

My stomach aches with nerves.  Tyler shoves a plate of nachos under my nose and I flinch away, my gut spasming, “Dude, get that out of my face before I vom in your nachos,” I warn him.

“Aw, somebody’s nervous,” he sing-songs and ruffles my hair, I dodge away.

“Fuck off,” I snap at him and smooth my hair.  My phone buzzes, Lola’s here, _hey, I’m at stage 3, where are you?  I want to see you before you go on._

My heart lurches, she showed up, “Okay I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I tell the group.

“Sure thing!” Tyler says absently, holding a glob of nachos over his plate as greasy cheese slides off of it, I have to look away.

“ _What? W_ ait, where are you going?” Marlon asks, catching my sleeve.

“I’m meeting with… people,” I remind him vaguely, as if he’d known this. He hadn’t.

“Who?” he asks, disbelievingly.

“Your dad,"  Tyler offers.

"Don’t you dare leave,” Marlon snaps at me, ignoring Ty.

“I’ll be right back, Jesus,” I scoff, but before I can leave I see the group’s eyes slide past me.

“Hey!” Lola says, “I found you!”

She's standing there bundled in that rainbow scarf, looking bright and beautiful.

I glance between her and the crew, Tyler looks amused, everyone else looks confused.

“Hey, I’m Lola,” Lola says and holds her hand out to Marlon.

He looks at it a moment then shakes it awkwardly, “Marlon.”  She makes her way through the group, everyone except Tyler introducing themselves to her.

“Cool, nice to finally meet you guys! Hey Ty,” Tyler ticks his chin up in a greeting.  Marlon glances at Tyler surprised, “So are you guys psyched?” Lola asks, clapping her hands, she’s occasionally a huge nerd and it makes me swoon.

“Uh, sure,” Marlon says dumbly, he seems to shake himself out of it and finds his manners, “yeah, this is going to be great.”

“I’m so excited, I’m telling everyone I know the band, it’s super embarrassing, you guys should be really embarrassed to know me,” she informs us, everyone is smiling at her, already charmed, and part of me is proud but also protective, like I have this weird urge to claim her as _my_ friend.

“Our first groupie, awesome,” Tyler says happily and high-fives her.

“I…”  _don’t want to have this conversation in front of the boys,_ “I’ll be right back,” I kind of covertly tug on Lola’s elbow to pull her away.

“Don’t be late!” Marlon yells after me.

“Chill!  I’ll be right back!” I yell back.

When we stop Lola looks a little anxious, “Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I… you came!”

She smiles, “Of course I did, I’m really excited!”  Her smile fades a little again, “Did you not…want me to come?”

“No, oh my god, it’s just we suck so bad, I’m going to be so embarrassed.”

She frowns, “No, come on, didn’t you guys have to like, audition?”

“We sent in a tape.”

Lola shrugs, “So, there you go.”

“Shay!” Marlon calls somewhere to my right, but I can’t see him.

“I need to go,” I tell her.

Suddenly, she leans into me and hugs me tightly, arms wrapped around my shoulders, my knees go weak, _she smells so fucking good,_ “Good luck,” her voice is low right beside my ear, I just nod.  I realize my arms have wrapped around her ribs without my permission.  My hand is flat between her shoulder blades. I memorize how she fits against me, the weight and curve of her against my body, “Have fun, yeah?  You’re going to do great, I’m proud of you, okay?”

For some reason my throat is tight with emotion, I feel it stinging in my nose.  I press it against her shoulder, try to breath her in without her noticing.

“Shay!” I hear Marlon again. Lola’s arms loosen, but at the last moment she presses her lips firmly against my cheek and it’s like slow motion, my eyes flutter closed, I can feel her soft exhale against my skin. As soon as she lets go I turn away and go back to the boys. I can still feel her lips there against my skin.

On stage we take a minute to adjust everything, I raise the seat to the drum set already there, run through the kit and adjust what I need to. Tyler adjusts the microphone, flirting with the audience already.  Beth, Rosa, and Malik stand with Lola yelling up at us like shameless groupies.  Marlon is setting up his keyboard but takes time to wave to them.  I focus on Lola at the front of the small crowd, smiling up at me, then to my horror Cloe is there tapping her shoulder. 

Why is she there?  Why would she talk to Lola of all people?  Did she see Lola and me before I came on stage?  Holy shit I don’t need this.  I feel like hurling my drumstick at them to break them up and I watch Lola grin and hug a surprised looking Cloe.  She then seems to be introducing my dad’s pregnant girlfriend to the rest of my friends who smile at her like the nice friendly people they are.

It’s horrifying and reassuring at the same time. Horrifying in that, firstly, _ew, get away from my friends you fucking succubus_ but then _okay so now Cloe thinks she hugs everybody,_ but then again, also _maybe Lola hugs everybody?_

“Good evening everybody, thank you for being here, I’m Tyler and we’re _Clout from Grandma’s Closet,”_ Tyler is cooing at the crowd, voice smooth, Tyler looks to me and I count us off and we begin.

For the next 30 minutes I manage to stay mostly focused on what we’re doing, we only mess up a few times, and Tyler and I laugh it off even though Marlon looks mildly pissed in that way he has when he’s in public that we know we’re going to get yelled at later.  We don’t suck though… not too badly anyway.  It’s fun, the majority of the crowd stays pretty steady, sitting or standing and watching us, bobbing their heads, I see a few people with their phones out recording us, which is pretty awesome. I try to ignore Cloe, who has found a seat near the side, her hand on her enormous baby belly, it occurs to me that my sibling can probably hear me right now and that weirds me out.  I see Lola dancing with Beth and Rosa, and a few other people near the front, which is fun, though I have a feeling Lola is the type to dance to elevator music between floors.

She grins at me when we make eye contact, claps extra loud and whistles through her fingers after each song, yelling up at us… at me… through cupped hands.  I watch Cloe smile watching my friends, but specifically Lola, eyes bouncing between us.

_God, please don’t let Cloe say anything embarrassing to Lola._

 

When we’re done we wave to the crowd and Tyler bows dramatically as if the decent amount of applause we are getting was mostly for him, he blows kisses to the crowd until the next group is already on stage and I have to pull him physically away from the microphone and down the stairs.

I’m sweaty and my arms ache, I’m out of shape, I need to practice more.  Lola bounces over to us, the rest of the group trailing after her, “Holy crap, you guys are awesome!” she says excitedly.

“Do you want our autographs?” Tyler asks.

“ _Absolutely_ I do!” she tells him.

“I sign body parts,” he offers suggestively.

Lola laughs, “Maybe later,” she flashes her eyebrows.

“Maybe the whole band can sign… Shay?” he says coyly, eyebrows raised when he turns to me.

I glare at him. “Let’s meet later and go over the performance, okay?”  Marlon suggests and we turn to him.

“Fuck that, I have plans, see ya!” Tyler says with a salute and he slides away into the audience away from us, “Shay, don’t forget to be back home before midnight or my moms will lose their shit.”

“Okay, Ty, no problem!”  I call after him, then turn to Marlon, “We have plans too,” I tell him, “maybe tomorrow?”

He glances between Lola and me, looks a little put out, but in the end, he smiles, “Yeah, okay.”

“We did okay, Marlon, it was fun,” I remind him.

“Why don’t you stay with us and watch the next band, Mar?”  Malik suggests.

“I’m actually kind of whipped, I’m going to head home.” 

“You sure?”  Rosa asks, but Marlon just waves them off.

“This was fun, Marlon,” I tell him again, maybe he'll believe me if I say it enough times.

“Yeah, okay, it was,” he admits, with a smile, then turns to go off toward the parking lot.  I try not to feel bad that I’m not hanging out with him.

Lola and I say our goodbyes and start off through the crowd only to be met by Cloe at the other side. 

_Oh yeah, her._

She looks out of place there, uncomfortable, I notice her looking down between Lola and me and I look down to realize that Lola is holding my hand, she’d clasped it as we went through the crowd, it’s not like I hadn’t noticed, but she was still holding it.  Instinctively I let go of Lola’s hand, and I don’t miss how she looks up at my face when I break contact.

“Should we go get something to eat?” Cloe suggests

We make our way to the food trucks and Cloe invites Lola to join us, at this point, it would be weirder to ask her to go somewhere else so I just shrug and agree. When we get there Lola is nicer than I am, so she offers to go get Cloe her food for her so she doesn’t have to stay in line, I suppose it also offers us a chance to talk privately.

“She’s nice,” Cloe says to me.

“All my friends are nice.”

“Yes, all of your friends are lovely,” Cloe agrees.

“I have plans after we’re done talking,”  I remind her curtly.

Cloe nods, “Have you found anything yet?  Any options?”

I should have been looking harder, somewhere in my mind I think I’m still thinking I can talk Tyler’s moms into letting me stay, though I know they’ve already basically said no.  I’m overstaying my welcome. “No, I haven’t yet,” I admit.

“Our home is really beautiful, Shay, we have plenty of room,” she says opening up her phone, I watch her face as she flips through photos, she’s pretty and sweet, she deserves better than what my dad will give her.  I look down at the photo she is showing me, a new build, one of those large cookie-cutter houses they mass produce in upper-middle-class neighborhoods.  “The school district is really good, we even have some decent private schools, I know you have good grades…,”  she pulls the phone back and flips forward, shows me a bedroom with baby blue walls, “this would be your room, you can paint it however you want,”  she again flips through, “this is the nursery…”

“Yeah, so, you’re super pregnant,"  I note.

She pauses, “I am, yes.”

“Dad told me just while ago like it was some new thing, but obviously it's not... when are you due?”

“Early December.”

“Wow, close.”

“Yes, very close.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“No, we want to be surprised.”

I scoff a little, “Dad wants it to be a surprise? --or did he just say ‘whatever you want?’”

Cloe pauses and I feel mean, I know him better than she does, “Do you want to see the baby?”

I’m about to say no, but the photo is already in front of me, an ultrasound all muddled and weird, but it’s a profile of a baby, I can see its little, upturned nose, the curve of its lips, a little fist held up.

“I’d never try to replace your mother, Shay…”

I snort, _oh my God she's so sweet,_ “I should hope not, she’s a fucking disaster,”  I remind her.

“I understand why you’re not happy with me, your parents are still married, and I know that their situation is complex…”

I interrupt again, “That’s not why, I understand the situation, my mom’s a crazy drunk and he’s trying to still take care of her without getting his hands dirty, I get it, I used to be mad about it, but now I’m doing it too, also it’s not at all a surprise that my dad would go off and start another family like a fast food chain, this is the kind of shit he does, he starts things and never finishes them, abandons projects and people.” I lean into Cloe, trying to make sure she hears me, “He doesn’t want me and you know that. I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted, I’ve done that long enough.”

Cloe blinks at me, looks down at her phone and closes her photo gallery, “Okay, Shay, I get it.”

“I need you to stop trying to convince my father to get me to go to Houston, I need you to convince him to let me go, to agree to let me live with friends, if they will let me, and finish school.  My friend’s home is more stable, regardless of what dad thinks of Rae and Jenn, they are amazing parents and human beings and he should feel lucky that they are the people showing me what good parents are like,”  I can see Lola not far away, she’s holding Cloe’s food and notably not watching us, trying to give us space. 

Cloe starts talking, “He’s not a homophobe really, he’s ignorant…”  she is saying to me, and I can only sigh, what's the difference in the end? “I admit... he’s not who I thought he was, to be honest, he can be an insensitive idiot,” she looks like admitting this pains her, and I realize that she’s stuck too, maybe she thinks she and I need each other, “I have hope for all of us,” she says. 

I realize I feel bad for her, “You’ve made a mistake Cloe, it’s not too late, just leave him, he won’t try to get the baby, you don’t have to worry about that,” Cloe looks alarmed by that and I realize I’ve gone too far, I have enough of my own problems to deal with, I can’t save Cloe or this baby.

I get back on topic, “If Jenn and Rae won’t let me stay there I have enough to rent a room, but I’m still only 17, can’t sign a lease or anything, so I’d need dad or… you to sign off on it, I think.  I’ve been taking care of myself and paying bills since spring, and not a single one has been late. I’ve officially moved out now, so I’m not doing _that_ anymore. I only make about $1000 a month, but a room will be cheaper than trying to keep that house going.  I know how to budget, if dad would agree to help out that would be great… I know he’s paying the house payment for my mom, but he doesn’t pay child support, so maybe he should finally do something legal with my mom and pay some child support, it would help me out a lot.  If not though I can do it on my own.”

“Don’t you think… I mean someone to look out for you…”

“Who do you think has been looking out for me so far?”

“Okay, Shay,” she says, resigned, “I’ll tell your father to do this, you let me know when you find something and we can do it your way,” I feel overwhelmingly relieved, finally an answer, “on one condition,” she adds.

“What’s that?” 

“If you agree to spend some time with the baby, even if you don’t see your dad.”

I feel myself nodding, “Okay,”  I agree.

In the end Lola realizes we’re done and brings Cloe’s food, apologizing if it’s cold, “That’s fine, I’ll take it back to my parent’s house and warm it up, eat it and watch some Stranger Things,”  she tells us and Lola again shows herself to be more polite than me and helps Cloe out of her seat.

“That sounds like an amazing plan,” Lola tells her, impressed.

“It was nice meeting you, Lola,” Cloe tells her and they hug again, which just weirds me out.  I step back before she can ask me for one too, and she takes the hint.

Lola and I watch Cloe move down the street towards the parking lot, “So what do you want to do?” Lola asks me.

“I have reason to celebrate, Lola,” I tell her and she matches my grin, “let’s celebrate.”

“What kind of celebration?” she asks, eyes keen.

I just smile at her.

“I know one thing…” she says coyly.

“What’s that?” I ask her, pretending when I don't notice her arm link through mine casually as we walk.  I feel grounded and focused and my stomach flutters with a whole new kind of nerves at her warmth beside me, I glance around at the crowd that surrounds us, but nobody seems to notice us walking with our arms linked.

“It won’t involve sympathy hot chocolate,” she says frowning dramatically, "because you guys were awesome."

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm participating in NaNo this month, which means I will be churning out the chapters but not taking a lot of time to edit. I'll be returning as time allows to fine tune everything.  
> I'll be posting another chapter tonight.
> 
> coming up: So many regrets.... and so many nicknames(??). The morning after celebrating with Lola
> 
> Trigger warning spoiler for this chapter: Shay attends an Alanon meeting but skips it in favor of talking to Kelsey, they touch on the fact that Kelsey's mother is an addict. Rae takes Shay to her mother's house to pick up her laptop, her mother is sober, but she has been given prescription narcotics, Shay refuses to help her open them. Shay finds that her mother, while intoxicated, went looking for Shay in her room, she damaged the door and broke her laptop. Shay's mother at one point grabs her arm roughly, she also speaks harshly to her while suggesting Shay has done something wrong in order to get the laptop, but Rae intervenes.


	11. Cleopatra's keyring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++  
> “Here’s your key,” he tells me, keyring dangling from his fingertips, “I’ll put it on your hook right there, okay? If I don’t see you before school tomorrow, lock up when you leave and have a good day okay?”
> 
> I have a key.
> 
> “Okay, thanks.”
> 
> He winks at me and leaves the house, I wait until I’ve heard his car drive away before going to look at my key on its hook, there is a letter C above my key hook, and I wonder if I will ever be called Shay again.  
> +++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay ran into Kelsey at an Alanon meeting. Retrieved her now broken laptop from her mother's house. Met up with Lola at Clout's Fall Festival performance. Spoke bluntly with Cloe and went to celebrate how things were looking up.
> 
> In this chapter: All the pain and regrets... what exactly happened last night? Sooooo many nicknames!

+++++

_Lola is beautiful and I tell her so, I tell her she’s really cool, and that she makes my hands sweaty, and I make her feel them._

_“Gross, dude.”_

+++++

The sun is stabbing me through my eyelids, the mattress is much more comfortable than the couch usually is, which doesn’t make sense, but fuck sense.

_“Gross, dude.”_

Oh my god. I jolt upright, I told Lola she was beautiful and cool and tried to make her touch my sweaty hands and she said, _gross dude._

Oh, Jesus.

White hot pain. _Oh, Jesus._ I carefully lay back down. 

Oh, Jesus, I’m dying.

So very much pain.  All of the pain.

There is water on the night table and some pills, they could be rat poison and I’d happily swallow them.

“ _Gross, dude,” but she’s smiling._

As I drain the glass of water, my brain struggles to remember, it… it had been okay, because… _see, because we’re close like that now, we went and listened to music, we went dancing, we hung out all night, and now we’re close like that. No more fucking around and confusing messages.  I’m pretty certain.  Everything is working out now, I’m on good ground after talking to Cloe, and everything is settling._

Oh Jesus, what did I do?

I glance around the room, holding as still as possible, my stomach is churning.  I’m in a sparsely decorated room, the walls are white, what little there is is distinctly feminine, art posters, books on a shelf, a corkboard with lots of empty space, but also a few photos I can’t quite make out, dried flowers hanging from a hook.  Where the fuck am I?

_Lola and I are sitting on a couch, it’s a comfortable couch, an unfamiliar couch, and she’s trying to get me to drink water.   She says I’m drunk, but so, okay, I’m fine, I’m not drunk, I don’t even drink, and I have a plan that’s not drunk… or… I have a… I know what I’m doing._

_She smells a-fucking-mazing. I tell her that just like that, I use that word and I’m a genius, it’s the cleverest phrase ever.  “Just drink the water,” she says to me,_ _her voice gentle and pleading,_ _but_ _instead I make up a song for her, well, more like a poem, and it’s not that great, I do a little dance with it, which makes it better, but I stay on the couch when I do it because I feel dizzy.  It’s hard to dance while sitting but I’ll teach her the moves, and we can do it standing later._

_Unfortunately, almost as soon as I say the poem and do the dance I can’t remember it, “Freestyling is problematic like that,” I tell her and she’s smiling at me._

Oh, my God, I feel like crying.  I carefully sit up, this isn’t her bedroom, I know that much, I remember her room, the smell of it, I smell bacon right now and my stomach clenches, that smell is the worst at the best of times, I might throw up.  There is a window nearby and I carefully move to open it, trying to keep my body level as I move.  I’m not going to throw up, I can fight this off.  I carefully open the window and cool air blows over me.  My nausea immediately lessens.

I close my eyes and breathe,

_“Shay, hon, you’re going to really wish you weren’t saying as much as you are right now,” she says to me, “let’s hope you don’t remember, okay?”_

_“You called me hon,” I tell her, “oh, I’ll remember this part,” and like magic, I do, but everything else fades away pretty quickly.  A minute later I try it again, “I’ll remember this too,” I tell her slowly.  I’m so fucking smooth, and I lean into her space, best idea ever, I’m so on point right now, everything I do is golden, but anyway, I lean in to kiss Lola._

My eyes snap open, oh fuck.

_Fuck._

Did I try to kiss her?  What happened next?  I turn back to the bedroom, trying to complete the memory.

She… she… fuck… _she_ _looks surprised, then she pulls away, “No, no, Shay, that’s a bad idea,” she tells me._

_Oh my god. She doesn’t like me_

_“You don’t like me?”  I accuse her, this part is important, we need to talk loudly about it, “stop dicking me around, Lola!”  I tell her then feel bad._

Oh _no!_

My eyes catch on the corkboard and I see photos of Meg, _Megan??_

Is this _Megan’s_ room?

I see other photos with Zoya, and… that chick Jo… and…

Kelsey…

Did I call Kelsey?  Is this Kelsey’s room?

Photos of Grace.  Grace with other people I don’t know… lots of photos of Grace with people who are not Meg’s friends.

Grace?

I move to the desk there is paperwork there and I peek at the top envelope, _Grace Olsen._

I’m in Grace’s room?  How? _What?!_

More photos, Grace with… Grace with Lola?  There’s a photo of Grace and a group of people a blonde guy kissing her cheek and there in the front is Lola holding up a red solo cup and at the edge is Tyler, of all people.

 _Jack._   My brain connects the name with the blonde guy.

I had said, _“Stop dicking me around, Lola!”_

_Someone says something, a guy, and he seems sympathetic to my plight, whatever it was he says._

_“Stop fucking helping, Jack!” Lola says to him, “I mean, no, don’t stop helping, but just shut up.”_

_“Jack is here?  Let’s meet this mystery man!”  I use this voice, I don’t know what it’s supposed to be._

_Lola laughs, “You’re so drunk,” she informs me._

_“I don’t drink though,” I remind her, it’s a secret and I’m not supposed to tell her, “this isn't cute, being drunk isn't cute, I’m not supposed to tell you, but my mom is a big mean fucking drunk, so I don’t do that.”_

It gets hazy from there, kind of increasingly fuzzy and confusing. It also gets increasingly nauseating, and kind of headachey, and not so much as fun.

The bed is a bare mattress with a flat sheet thrown on it, it’s wrinkled from me laying on it, a pile of blankets bunched up. I hope I didn’t do something like puke on the bedding.

I brave the door I assume leads out of the room, immediately across the hall is a bathroom and I glance down the hall, there are voices and horrendous smells coming from that direction. I cup my hand over my nose and mouth and slip across the hallway into the bathroom.  I close the door before turning on the light, and when I do, I flinch at the image of myself in the mirror.  I look like I’ve been dragged behind a truck. There is smeared face paint on my cheek, a pumpkin. I have circles under my eyes, my hair is a disaster, my clothes wrinkled.  My mouth tastes like I spent the night chewing on someone's shoes.

I take a few minutes to tidy myself up, starting with my face, scrapping dried paint from my cheek. My upper arm is tender, an examination shows the bruise left by a hand, fingertips dug into flesh.  It takes me a moment to remember that my mother grabbed my arm. I smell my shirt, I smell like sweat and alcohol, I quietly snoop in a drawer and find powder, I put some down my shirt, cough away the cloud that coats my tongue. I find toothpaste and put it on my finger, swirl it through my mouth, add water and gargle, gagging violently and unexpectedly until my stomach aches.

_Oh, what have I done?_

I lean on the wall, catch my breath, slow my heart.

My nausea passes, I can do this without puking.

I finish tidying up, and step into the hallway, “Cleopatra!!” someone practically screams as I enter the living room, and I flinch, both at the surprise of it, but also the sheer volume.  I turn to the doorway on my left,  there is a kitchen there, the blonde guy from the photos and hazy in my memory is standing in front of the stove.

 _“Hello, Miss Lola, oo, and Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile, what a pleasant surprise, you smell like a distillery,”_ he had been wearing a red silky robe when he answered the door, he is wearing the same robe now.

“Cleopatra?” I ask the guy now.

He leans on the counter, crosses his ankles, “It’s the hair,” he explains, fluttering his hand towards my face, I nickname all of my children.”

I blink at him, nod, “Jack?” I guess.

“Yes, Your Highness, right on the first try,” he tells me.

I look around the kitchen, there is a guy sitting at the table, he has thick glasses and bed head and is watching me with careful eyes, “Hi,” I say to him, he looks slightly startled, then glares at me.

“Don’t mind Charlie he hates everyone… except me.”

“No, I hate you too,” the guy says quietly and drinks his coffee.

“Clinically depressed,” Jack stage whispers, shielding the wrong side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Inappropriate,"  Charlie tells him.

“You want breakfast?  I made _bacon!”_   Jack says, ignoring Charlie.  He holds up a wad of bacon between tongs, they drip thick grease and I gag, clapping my hand over my mouth, “Woah, no, okay, that’s fine," he amends, dropping the bacon back into the frying pan.

“Where’s… Lola?” I ask from behind my hand.

“Lolita went home, she said she had some stuff to do,” he tells me turning back to the counter, he fills a coffee cup, “sit.”

I sit across from Charlie who continues to glare at me.

_Tyler!_

I leap out of my chair, _oh pain._   I cringe and grab my head, “Shit, I didn’t go home!  I need to call…”

“I called Jenn and Rae, it’s all good,” Jack informs me calmly, puts some dry toast on a plate, a little dish of jam and a tiny spoon, he gently pushes me back into my seat and I let him.

“You called them?”  I fumble for my phone.

“It’s charging,” Jack says gesturing vaguely somewhere to his right, “I called them last night, the Peterson-Nunez ladies and I are… as they say… _syp… sypanico…”_

 _“_ Sympatico,” Charlie corrects quietly.

“Sympatico, yes, _that,”_ Jack says, pointing at Charlie sharply.

“Am I… was I in Grace Olsen’s bedroom?”

“My sister, yes, she’s en… Espan- _ya_ , as… una estduian- _tay_ exchan _jay,”_ Jack says dramatically.

“You’re basically just a bigot now,” Charlie tells him mildly. 

Jack rolls his eyes, “Ugh, she’s doing a student exchange in Spain this year,” he says quickly, "you ruin everything, Chuck,"  Jack pouts.

I wonder if I should have known that about Grace, “Well, I hope she doesn’t mind…”

“Everything is settled, everybody is on board, it’s all good, Your Highness.”

“Settled?”

“We’re boxing up her room today, Tyler and his mummsies will bring your things, your step-momster and your Prince Charming pops are okay with it being off the books, everybody vouches for you…”

“Everybody?”

“Lolz, our baby-gay TyTy, his lovely mothers, Amazing Grace, Megpie…”

“ _Grace?_   Grace doesn’t know me.”

Jack shrugs, “She knew enough.”

“Megan vouched for me?”

“Yuppers, you’re quite popular among people I am quite fond of, so I am fond of you, aren’t you lucky?” Jack presses bacon between paper towels and I try to focus on my breakfast over the smell of the bacon grease.

“Vouch for what now?”  I say biting into my toast and jam, my stomach is already settling.

Jack looks at me exasperated, “We talked all this through last night, Your Majesty,”  he says and hands me a napkin, “you have a little… jam…” he says and gestures to his entire face.

“I was drunk,” I remind him, wiping my mouth.

He laughs loudly, “Oh Jesus, yes, you were, you were adorable, so…"  he snaps his fingers, gazes at the ceiling searching for the word, "earnest,” he finishes.

“You’re living here, now.  Yay,” Charlie says sarcastically.

“What? No, I don’t know you!”

“It’s a trial, Love, calm down, eat, busy day, lots to do, and you need to finish your paper,” Jack sips his tea.

_My paper!_

I sit back in my seat, “Shit, that’s right,” I say horrified, “my mom... my laptop got broken…”

“You told us,” Charlie says, his tone a bit snarky for my taste.

“Calm down, jeez!” Jack sighs, “Come on, follow me.”

He walks into the living room, carrying his tea.  There is a large flat screen computer monitor set up at a desk, “Community computer,” Jack informs me, gesturing sweepingly at the desk, “though only I use it… don’t check the history… I should probably clear that now that I think of it,” he mutters.

My laptop is there, attached to the monitor by a cord, he turns the screen on and though the screen to the actual laptop is broken, my paper is there on the desktop, I wiggle the laptop mouse and the pointer moves across the screen, I type and the letters appear.

“Oh my God, I thought it was lost,” I breath.

“Nope, I saved it, I saved you, I’m your hero, you love me,” Jack tells me proudly.

“You are, yes, I do!”  I inform him, scanning through the document, I spent hours editing and finishing the citations, I had left it perfect, ready to print, and then thought I’d lost it all.

“So, I couldn’t get an answer last night, you just wanted to talk about embarrassingly personal shit and how you wanted have Lola’s babies, but is the paper done, can we print it and start family night?  Because _Say Yes to the Dress_ is on,” Jack taps his foot.

“I told you…?  I talked about Lola?” I ask.

Jack just smirks, Jesus, one disaster at a time though.  If there's one thing I'm practiced at it's compartmentalizing.  I scan over the paper one last time, it’s done, I tell him as much and he shoves me out of the way, making the desk chair roll and spin into the hallway across the wood floors.  He finds his printer on the wi-fi and presses print with a flourish, “Can I email it, just to make sure?” I ask, scooting back across the floor.

Jack groans and rolls his eyes like I just do nothing but ask for the most ridiculous favors, “Yes, because I’m kind and sweet, but hurry up.”  I quickly log in and email the paper to my teacher and feel like an enormous weight is off my shoulders. 

“Next thing next, right?” Jack says to me with a wink.

_Oh lord, I really did overshare, didn’t I?_

“Yeah.”

“Okay well, I’m making popcorn and we’re going to watch TV together and bond,” he suddenly hugs me close to his chest, practically yanking me out of the rolling desk chair, petting me, sloppily. “Yes, bonding time for new roommates, we’re going to be best buds,” he coos, but then shoves me away, “You stink, you smell like bad decisions, go get a shower, I will give you clothing, but you do your own laundry because I’m not your sexy manservant.”

+++++

When I’m done with my shower, I find sweatpants and a t-shirt by the door with my paper sitting on top.  I dodge across the hall on only a towel and put the clothes on in Grace’s bedroom, rolling up the pant legs.  I leave my paper carefully on the desk.  When I leave the room, I carry my dirty clothes out to the hall, the living room is dark.  Charlie is slouched in an arm chair, Jack is curled under a blanket with a bowl of popcorn.  He flaps an arm toward me without looking, “Put your dirty girl underthings in the laundry before I see them and am emotionally damaged,” he orders, “and hurry up, you’re missing the best part.”

I put my clothes in the washing machine and add soap, closing the lid, I cautiously join them in the living room.  Jack pats the seat beside him, popcorn tumbling from his bowl unnoticed, “What’s the best part?” I dare to ask.

“The part where the bitchy sisters get catty,” he whispers loudly.

I sit and he throws the blanket over my legs and leans against my body, “You smell like me, now,” he says too closely to my ear, I’ve covertly scented you with my fancy body soap, you’re welcome. In some species it means that I now own you, you’re welcome again.”

“Gooble-gobble, gooble-gobble, one of us, one of us,” Charlie chants darkly, peering at me over the arm of the chair. Creepy fucker.

“Stop being disturbing, it’s too early for that, Charlie Manson, you’ll scare her away,” Jack scolds him and pets my face, making me flinch and blink.

Jack shoves his popcorn bowl between us and lays his head on my shoulder, “She looks like a psychotic slutty swan, I _love_ it,” he tells me, while the woman on the TV ugly cries about saying yes to her slutty swan dress.

+++++

There is a break at some point when the marathon catches up to an episode Jack doesn’t like and he moves around turning on lights and getting drinks for Charlie and I, not bothering to ask if we want to watch the episode. 

I take the opportunity to look around the living room, the electronics are expensive the furniture high end, I don’t even know what the house looks like from the outside, I don’t even know where we are, but it _is_ a house, not an apartment. I can see his neighbor’s home across the street through the window, and it’s a modern brick ranch style with a manicured lawn so I’m guessing his is similar, “What do you do, Jack?” I ask him when he comes back into the living room.

“He picks up strays,” Charlie chimes in.

“I own a bar,” Jack corrects him sternly, then he shrugs, “and yes, I collect lovely friends.”

“You own a bar?”  I ask him, looking him over, “How old _are_ you?”

“24, sweet girl, I also work at Hope House, do you know it?  My degree is in counseling, so I make use of that there, which puts me in contact with all sorts of amazing young people.”

“I don’t know Hope House,” I admit.

“Teen shelter,” Jack informs me.

“LGBTQ shelter,” Charlie says at the same time.

“Yes, that too,” Jack agrees, curls up against me again.

“How do you know Lola?”

Jack is quiet, and I wonder if maybe he didn’t hear me, but I can see Charlie watching us, “He…” Charlie begins.

“I found Lola and June their apartment last year,” Jack tells me airily.

“June?” I vaguely remember the name from when Lola’s roommates came home the evening I spent at her house, the girl in the car.

“Lola’s girlfriend,” Charlie tells me maybe a little too pleased to be the one telling me this news.

“Yes, she is _that_ ,” Jack says distastefully, giving Charlie a dirty look.

“Oh,” is all I can think to say.

_Lola has a girlfriend._

_She has a girlfriend who she lives with._

I think back try to picture the girl in the car, dark hair, bangs, I also remember Lola’s painting, the one I said I liked especially, the girl with dark hair, bangs, the cigarette between her pretty red lips.  Fuck.

_Fuck._

Oh, my god, how embarrassing.  I’ve been misreading everything.

Jack pats my knee soothingly, I haven’t said anything in response to the news, but I evidently said enough last night that he’s understanding that this information is hitting hard.  He cuddles against my side and hushes us as a new episode comes on, “Oh this is the one with the horrible fathers who are _way_ too into their daughters.  So uncomfortable… it’s amazing,” he informs me and I’m glad for the darkness in the room because I can feel my face is hot, my eyes stinging.  This is humiliating.

+++++

“I fucking threw myself at her!”  I’m hissing at Tyler as we pack up Grace’s bedroom.  Tyler is snooping through her things and I keep slapping his hands away when they try to open closed boxes.

“I’m sorry, Shay, that fucking sucks.  People suck. I promise I didn’t know.”

I unpin Grace’s photos eyes lingering on Meg, it seems so fucking long ago, I haven’t thought of her in weeks.  I put them in a shoe box I have labeled _Grace’s corkboard_ with Sharpie.  I’m about to speak again when there is a knock on the door, “Yeah, come in,” I call, Jenn and Rae come in carrying bags, I hadn’t realized how much I had managed to sneak into Tyler’s bedroom over the summer.

Jenn looks around the room, “It’s sunny!” she says optimistically, Rae gives me a side hug before leaving again, saying she’s getting more from the car.

“Yeah, it’s really nice, right?” I ask.

Jenn looks at the bed, “A queen size?  We can get you sheets.”

“Okay, Jack has some we can use, but having my own would be a better.”

Jenn nods, “I’ll make your bed up for you.”  She slips from the room, calling for Jack.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out, Lola is calling me.  I decline her call and put it back in my pocket, catching Tyler’s eye.  I just shake my head, and he goes back to looking through Graces clothes drawer, it’s mostly empty but he holds up a blue sweater, “Will you stop Tyler, just put it in the box.”  My phone buzzes again and I check it, a text from Lola, I switch off my phone without reading it and put it back in my pocket. 

I don’t know what to say to her, I don’t know the full extent of what I said to her yesterday, but I know I mentioned my mom, I know I flirted with her, I know I tried to kiss her and she turned me down and I kind of wish that that hole I always talk about opening up in the ground and swallowing me would make an appearance.  I feel myself blushing just thinking about it.

“Found some, these are nice,” Jenn says, entering the room again,  she pauses, “you okay Shay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie and move to the other side of the bed to help her make it up. 

Rae comes back in, “I brought in some groceries,”

“You guys brought groceries? – you didn’t need to I have money,” I argue, but Rae waves me off, “I left them in the kitchen you can ask Jack where to put them, I’d do that soon, some of the stuff needs the fridge or freezer.”

Jenn is dropping a pillow into a blue pillow case, she fluffs it and drops it on the bed and unfolds the ugly floral comforter, I woke up under this morning, “I can take you this week to get new bedding,” she says scowling at the blanket.

“Thanks, Jenn, don’t worry, I can manage.”

“I know you can, but it would be fun, if it makes you feel better you can pay.”

I shrug, “Okay then.”

“For some of it,” she finishes and I smile, “What I don’t buy, you can buy,” she tells me.  I just nod at her with a smirk.

+++++

I have a shelf in the fridge and one in the pantry that is mine that says _Cleopatra_ , they have placed tape over Grace’s name and written _Cleo_ in its place, in the fridge, “Cleo sounds too much like my step-mom’s name,” I complain to Jack who is making spaghetti for dinner.

“She will have to change her name then because it’s yours now,” he announces. “You like garlic, right? Of course, you do,” he answers for me.

“I can make my own food,” I remind him, “I have groceries.”

“We eat as a family, here,” he says proudly, “Grace usually cooked on Wednesday and Fridays, you can have her days or we can rearrange if that doesn’t work.”

“Okay,” I agree, even at Tyler’s house they seldom ate together, this will be an adjustment, but Jack is sweet and wildly inappropriate and funny and kind.  I kind of love him already, and Charlie is surly and dark, he lurks around the house and makes me mostly nervous, but Jack seems to love him, so I suppose there’s something redeeming about him and maybe I just need to get to know him.

“Lola texted me, trying to reach you, I told her you were settling in,” Jack tells me cautiously.

I’m standing in the pantry and pause in writing down my shopping list, “I’ll talk to her… soon.”

“Mm-hm,” Jack hums at me, knowingly.

+++++

We eat dinner and I help Charlie do dishes and clean up, which is apparently how the system works here.  Charlie vanishes into his room and Jack gets ready to leave for his bar for a few hours, so I go back to my room. “Hey, Cleo!” Jack calls as from the front door and I turn in the hall, “Here’s your key,” he tells me, keyring dangling from his fingertips, “I’ll put it on your hook right there, okay?  If I don’t see you before school tomorrow, lock up when you leave and have a good day okay?”

_I have a key._

“Okay, thanks.”

He winks at me and leaves the house, I wait until I’ve heard his car drive away before going to look at my key on its hook, there is a letter C above my key hook, and I wonder if I will ever be called Shay again.

I move to my bedroom and shut my door behind me, I glance at the lock, but in the end, I leave it unlocked and even open the door a crack before I turn and look over my room.  I have the bedside lamp on, the curtains drawn, it’s warm and friendly.

All of Grace’s leftover belongings are carefully packed away in the closet.

 I have my clothes in drawers, my broken laptop and school supplies stacked neatly on the desk.  My bed is made and I have my own meager belongings on the shelves, it’s _my_ room. 

I can use the door, I can feel safe here, I can come and go, pay my own way, I can decorate it and my belongings are mine and I can trust them to be safe here.  I can focus on what I need to focus on, I can sleep without watching under the door. I can go to school and work, and do homework and watch TV and cook in a kitchen and eat with… friends… roommates… friends… I don't need some weirdness with Lola fucking that up.

It hurts to think that, I remember vividly how it feels to have her near me and wonder if I’m feeling overly confident, but no. No. _Fuck Lola_.

I’m fine.  Things are going to be great. She’s not _that_ great, she’s just a girl. 

A cute girl. A really cute, fun, amazing girl.

A girl with a fucking _girlfriend_ , and I don’t need more drama in my life. Things are going well, and I don't need any messy relationship bullshit anyway.

I put on the same sweats and t-shirt Jack let me wear earlier and climb into bed.  _My bed._ The room is dark and cozy and safe feeling.  I set the alarm on my phone, Tyler is driving me to school in the morning. 

My phone buzzes and I look at the screen, _Goodnight, Shay,_ Lola has written to me.

I don’t need her fucking drama.

I close my screen dropping the room back into darkness and I sleep like the dead.

_+++++_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm participating in NaNo this month, so it will be a lot of words and not a lot of editing.
> 
> I'll come back later and clean stuff up.
> 
> kudos are fun. comments are even MORE fun. <3
> 
> COming up: Shay tries to navigate her new environment that seems to almost completely overlap with Lola's while trying to avoid her.


	12. Non-believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++  
> “I get it, okay… I know you don’t know her well, because if you did know her, then this wouldn’t be happening, and you certainly wouldn’t be scared of me right now.”
> 
> I just blink at her, my heart pounding, I shouldn’t respond, I’ve spent nearly 17 years being manipulated by my mother, and alarm bells are going off now, but she seems sincere, so I ask anyway, “What do you mean?”  
> +++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay woke up in a strange room with a hangover. She had some embarrassing flashbacks and realized that she celebrated a little too hard and Lola had delivered her to the elusive Jack's house. After drunkenly oversharing Jack offered her a room in his home, previously occupied by his sister, Meg's friend Grace. Shay realized she tried to kiss Lola who turned her down. After recovering her school paper, Jack and another roommate, Charlie, bonded with her, and Charlie let slip that Lola had a girlfriend whom she lived with. Shay avoided Lola out of embarrassment at having misread their relationship.
> 
> In this chapter: Shay tries to navigate her new environment that seems to almost completely overlap with Lola's while trying to avoid her.

+++++

So, for a minute, I decide to skip school.

I wake up to my alarm and turn it off and try to go back to sleep, but then I’m laying there paranoid. 

Skipping maybe isn’t the best decision when trying to prove to people that I’m a mature, independent, and responsible woman who deserves personal agency in her life, especially when I decide to do it within 24 hours of showing up drunk to meet my new roommates.

I’m also paranoid about the school calling my mom to ask her why I’m not there.

I’m exhausted, though.  I'd turned in my paper via email, and when I check my notifications, I see an email reply from my teacher saying she’d received it and printed it off.  Nothing else is going on, and I am emotionally drained and confused.  I fell asleep easily enough but woke up thinking of her, of Lola.  I should be used to being disappointed by now, shouldn’t I?  I’m not ready to run into her at school.

I drag myself out of bed though, and I get dressed and I make my bed and leave my bedroom tidy… because it’s _mine_.

I am alone in the kitchen and make a pot of coffee for the house and oatmeal for myself using an electric kettle I find on the counter. I sit at the table and look through my group chat with Tyler and Marlon and the rest of my friends. There’s some gossip I’ve missed from Saturday night about Beth hooking up with some drummer from another band, and some confused questions about the rumor that I’ve moved. 

Tyler has been trying to put them off, which I appreciate but I take pity and tell them that I'm fine and that I’ll explain everything as soon as I'm settled, then I give in and read through all of Lola’s texts.  They are all happy sweet, friendly things asking me how I am feeling and how I’m settling in, that she understands I’m busy but looks forward to seeing me again.  What am I even supposed to say to that?

Jack wanders in after a while, and I watch him as I eat my oatmeal, he’s wearing his red robe again, he pours himself coffee and turns, jumping when he sees me, clasping a hand over his heart. His reaction scares me too, and my spoon clatters messily to the table, “Oh, Cleo, I forgot you existed,” he tells me.

“Wow, thanks?”  I respond sarcastically, licking oatmeal from my fingers and picking it off of my shirt.

He recovers quickly and sits across from me, leaning over the table towards me like he’s purely invested in my simple existence, “So, what’s the plan, what’s on the schedule, what do you have lined up, what’s… on… the… _docket_?”

I’m midway through a drink of coffee when he asks, and I struggle to swallow it to answer, “School, then work…” I hesitate, wondering if I’m supposed to be asking permission or informing him of my whereabouts, “I’ll be home around 6:30?”

“We’ll hold dinner for you then,” he says adding sugar to his coffee, "Charlie is making pork chops,"  he shrugs with a frown.

“You guys don’t have to wait...”

He presses a finger to my lips, his finger is sticky, and I don’t even want to know why. “Shh…  too early in the morning for martyrdom,” he whispers, and I scrub at my face with my sleeve when he pulls his finger away.

“Is there more coffee?” we hear, and I turn to see a young man I’ve never seen before.  He is wild-haired, barefoot, and bare-chested in low-slung sweatpants, as he comes around the corner into the kitchen, scratching his neck and yawning.

I look to Jack for an answer, and he grimaces, “Oh, um…”

“Paul,” the guy finishes for him, casually, as if he expected that Jack might not remember his name.  Paul makes himself at home, he pours the last of the coffee into a mug he finds in the cupboard and then pulls milk from the fridge.

“Paul.” Jack turns to me, “That’s Paul, we met at the bar last night, he's very... friendly,” he says to me, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Paul this is my roommate, Cleo.”

I start to correct him, but Paul sits beside me, then leans over and hugs me tightly, “Nice to meet you, Cleo,"  he says beside my ear, then releases me, "is there more oatmeal?”

“Uh,” I look to Jack who avoids eye contact, “sure, in the pantry,” I tell him and he gets up to go judge the weight and heat of the electric kettle and then stick his head in the pantry.  Charlie walks in, fully dressed and ready to leave the house.  He double-takes at Paul and then gets out his travel mug and stands sputtering angrily at the empty coffee pot.

“Which of you assholes finished the coffee?”

“That would be me,” Paul admits, raising his hand sheepishly.

“Who the fuck are you?” Charlie asks, but then he puts his coffee mug back into the cupboard and leaves the room again.  We finish breakfast in silence.

 +++++

 

I’m thankful to be at work because it means I'm not at school.  I spent all day avoiding Lola, though in the end, it was relatively easy, the only times we could have seen each other would have been between classes and at lunch, and I just changed my route and never even laid eyes on her.

I’ve started ranking my anxiety level by how likely I am to run into Lola.  My entire life seems to revolve around her now, quite literally, she's everywhere. I’m not sure exactly what I’m avoiding… embarrassment, I guess… regret? Maybe it’s that I’m avoiding how I feel when I’m around her.  When I have space, it’s easier to be subjective, but when I’m near her… yeah… no, I need space right now. 

I’m most likely to see her at school, semi-likely to see her near or at work, and I guess slightly less likely to see her at Jack’s… I mean _our_ house, but it’s not impossible that she might be there at some point.

I’m not going to be able to avoid her forever.

Speak of the devil, my phone buzzes, a text from Lola. I’m pricing new books with no customer’s nearby, so I go ahead and open it, _What are you doing tonight_ she asks.

The kinds of messages she’s been sending me tells me she thinks she knows what’s wrong, precisely because she’s not _asking_ me what’s wrong.  I went from messaging and talking to her all day long to ghosting her, and she’s acting like everything is perfectly normal.

Another message, _Jack says you’re at work.  I might stop by in a few._

Shit, clever girl, not asking, telling.  I have to write her back if I don’t want her to come.

“I’m taking my break!”  I announce too loudly for it to be casual and rush to get my jacket.  I slip out the back door and take the alley down toward the café on the corner.  I’ll get myself a sandwich and eat it there, hope she gets the hint.

 

I’m standing at the counter waiting for them to give me my food. Service is slow today, I had to order it to go, so I occupy my time by letting my eyes lazily scan the room.  My gaze stutters on the front window, there through the glass, I see someone looking back at me, dark hair, bangs, fuck, she even has the red lips and cigarette, she’s watching me, arms crossed across her chest as her friends chat to each other beside her.

_June._

I shouldn’t be this surprised since we’re only about three blocks from their apartment.

I quickly turn back to the counter, too quickly, probably,  if she’d been wondering if I knew who she was, she now knows. “56?” the woman behind the counter calls and I step forward.  Once I have my food, my body automatically turns toward the door, but I hesitate.  If I sit at a table, maybe she’ll go away, but this is only a break, I’m already late getting back. 

I step outside and turn quickly around the corner.  I can hear June's footsteps behind me before she speaks, “Hey, hey!” she calls after me.  I stop walking and turn, halfway expecting her to assault me in some way when I do.

Her eyes are looking at me carefully, examining my face, looking for something. She has her hands rooted in her pockets, and I notice that she’s wearing Lola’s rainbow scarf, “You’re Shay,” she says to me.  June is a beautiful girl.  No, she's a woman. She’s older, in college I’m sure, she's mature, put together, beautiful.  I'm completely out of my league here.  Her voice is surprisingly calm, and it's terrifying.

“Yes,” I admit.

Her eyes slide down my body, head to toe, assessing me, “You’re pretty,” she says to me, matter-of-factly. I don’t know how to respond, in the end, I don’t need to because she continues, “I’m June, but I think you know that.”

“I do,” I tell her.  I don’t like how nervous my voice is. I haven’t done anything wrong, not knowingly.

She rolls her eyes and sighs at me, “Calm down. I’m not here to start shit.  It’s not that deep.”  It's obvious that she’s trying to make this out to be ridiculous, a minor inconvenience, but the tone of her voice gives her away, she’s hurt. “So… are you why she’s talking about _taking a break_ from our relationship?” 

I’m stunned, “What? No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

June shakes her head, “A _break_ ,” she laughs, “that’s quite the commitment, you should be flattered. Usually, she doesn’t bother to try to pause anything with me, she simply goes ahead and fucks around,” I feel my face flushing, “I’m not worried,” she says flippantly, I don’t even know her, and I can tell she's lying, she really sucks at this.  My eyes dart behind her and her friends are gone, there’s nobody to help end this.

De-escalating this is all on me, luckily I have plenty of practice with de-escalation. “I don’t know what you think has happened, Lola and I barely know each other. I didn’t even know she had a girlfriend until yesterday morning,” I feel like I’m lying, but I’m praying she hears the truth, that I’m not the type of girl to fuck with other people’s relationships, not anymore, not on purpose, and not like this.

June smiles sharply, “Of course you didn’t know, Shay… it _is_ Shay, right?” she asks, even though I know she knows my name.

I allow it, she needs the upper hand right now, so I just nod.

She reaches out, and I can’t help but flinch as her hand lands softly on my upper arm, she frowns at that, her expression softening, and I’m confused, “Hey, sorry,” she says and seems to center herself, “I get it, okay… I know you don’t know her well, because if you did know her, then this wouldn’t be happening, and you certainly wouldn’t be scared of me right now.”

I blink at her, my heart pounding, I shouldn’t respond, I’ve spent nearly 17 years being manipulated by my mother, and alarm bells are going off now, but she _seems_ sincere, so I ask anyway, “What do you mean?”

June frowns as if she pities me for being so naive, “Shay, this is what she does.  I know how you’re feeling, I felt like that too, everyone who meets her feels that way,” she says this like it’s an inside joke, like one day I’ll laugh this off too, like _oh that Lola, she’s at it again._ “She makes everyone feel _so special_ ,” June explains, her tone is sarcastic.

“I have to go to work,” I start to tell her, wanting to get the fuck away from her and out of this conversation, and June’s sardonic smile fades.

She's determined now, “Lola’s attention is like a drug,” she nods, knowingly, and I feel exposed, “I get it, but don’t get too attached.  Lola's..." she pauses, picking her words, "she's a good girl, but she does this, even when she doesn't mean to.  

"The few of us who really know her understand that this is just what she does, Lo has… _issues…_ on top of that, I think she gets off on making people fall for her.  I swear, it's like some needy power bullshit, some daddy-issue nightmare.  She, basically, like, self-medicates by making people fall for her, especially if it involves tempting girls out of the closet. It’s an ego boost.”

 _Oh fuck._  I feel my face burning in embarrassment, "June," I begin, but I'm not sure what to say.

“Even in her friendships, she comes on heavy to make everyone like her, flirts with fucking everyone.  In the end, though, she can’t maintain any friendships, let alone relationships.  Lola is exciting, and fun and flighty and flirty, I knew that about her when I met her, and I’m okay with it.  It ended up working out for us because I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I do worry about you taking her too seriously."

I can't help myself, "I'm not," I lie.

She sighs, "You’re so young,” she says, looking me over again, “you’re going to get hurt, she’ll reel you in and then _abandon_ you.”  June lights another cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air with agitation, “I love her, but she can be selfish,” she ashes her cigarette, though there’s no ash built up, and bites at her lip.  

I just stand still as I can, instincts from dealing with my mother kicking in, “don’t depend on her, she’ll throw you away as soon as she has you, as soon as she gets tired of you.  She’s not actually going to break up with me, she never does,”  she finishes and watches the traffic drive by for a moment distractedly.

I just stare at her profile, her words sinking in slowly, “Nothing is even happening,” I assure her quietly.

June turns her gaze back to me, smiling tightly, “Bullshit,” she says, and then adds, “and if I’m wrong, I won’t be for long, I know Lola better than anyone, you think you’re the first girl she’s left pining? Lola starts to feel insecure, and she looks for someone new to fawn over her, you’re not the first, hell, you might not even be the most recent, she probably has someone else on the hook right now, too.”

My chest hurts, my eyes sting, “I need to go back to work,” I tell June again.

She smiles at me, pats my arm, “Oh yeah, of course.  I'll see you around, you have a good day, okay?” she ducks in and hugs me firmly, I can’t help the way I flinch violently.  June laughs, “You need to cut back on the caffeine,” she suggests, gesturing to the bottle of coke in my hand, then she spins and walks confidently down the street.

I’m on automatic returning to the shop, playing June’s words back to myself, I’m about to go inside when I hear “Hey, Shay!" I glance up to see Lola seated at the outdoor café table near the front door,  "you’re a difficult girl to find the last couple of days.” she says brightly.

I realize I must have zero control over the expression on my face because she grimaces, “Ouch, so, not happy to see me?” she asks warily.

I try to school my features, feeling guilty, then angry for feeling guilty, I sigh, “No, I mean…I’ve been busy,” I tell her calmly, “I’m having a weird… _life_ , right now.”

She stands from the table and nears me, a careful smile on her face, “I heard it’s official that you’re going to be staying with Jack now?”  Lola says.

“Yeah.”  My tone is clipped, I’m angry at her, and I’m hurt. I realize that might not be fair since she has no idea why I might be anything other than happy to see her or maybe embarrassed at having gotten sloppy drunk last I saw her. I don’t even know if what June has said is true, but my emotions seem to have decided on their own because I’m fucking pissed and hurt.  I also can’t deny the butterflies I feel at seeing her again.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”  She stands too close to me, I like her eyes on me a little too much, after what I just heard from June, I shouldn’t feel like this around Lola, I just watch the toes of my shoes for a moment to center myself, “Do… do you have a break or anything coming up?” she asks quietly.

“Just took my break, so no.”

“I think we should talk.”

I look up at her, thinking I can handle this, but I’m right back to how I always feel when I look at her.  My resolve evaporates, and my voice is uncertain when I speak, “I don’t think we should,” I tell her, she looks flustered, and I can’t maintain eye contact.

“Why not?-- I missed you yesterday, I was worried about you, and… I had a lot of fun Saturday…”  she is saying to me, her eyes are moving between my eyes, my mouth, my face, my hands, I can almost feel them on me.

“I don’t remember _most_ of Saturday night,” I tell her, and it occurs to me that I can leave it at that and save myself some embarrassment.

“Really?” she sounds disappointed, “It was… one of my favorite nights,” she tells me quietly.  My stomach is full of butterflies, and I fucking hate them. June’s voice is clear in my head, _Shay, this is what she does._

“I remember enough,” I tell her, hoping that she understands.

She starts to smile, like this is good news, but then her eyes rake over my face and she frowns again, “What do you mean? I hope you're not embarrassed about...” her voice fades out, and she smiles again.

I sigh, she’s going to make me say it, I glance over and see Fern at the front counter watching us, she looks away quickly, “I’m late, I can’t do this now,” I tell Lola.

“Wait, what… what do you remember?” she asks.

I brace myself, then pull her sleeve to move to the edge of the building, “I remember that I tried to kiss you,” I tell her once we are out of sight.  She smiles at that, and I’m glad she finds that so amusing, “Charlie and Jack told me about June,” I tell her, watching for her reaction.

Lola’s smile drops from her face, “I was going to tell you about her…” she says quickly.

“But you _didn’t.”_

“We didn’t do anything wrong, nothing happened,” she assures me.  The fact she even says that makes me think she doesn’t really believe it.

I search her face, trying to read if I’m right, “You think the way we were with each other was okay when you had a girlfriend already?”  I ask her, disbelieving.

“What do you mean?” the question sounds innocent, but there’s this flash of something like guilt, she’s not as good a liar as June seems to think she is.

It makes me angry, she might not know everything going on in my life, but if she likes me _at all,_  even as a friend she just flirted with, then she wouldn’t be denying this, “Nothing, nevermind,”  I say and start to step past her.

“No wait, what do you mean?” she asks, grabbing at my hand, I pull it away.

“Nothing, I… nothing I guess,” I tell her and shrug my shoulders.

She smiles, “I mean, nothing _happened_ …”

“My mistake,” I mutter.

“Wait… Shay…"  her words are rushed, "you’re so… and I… listen, what I mean is…” I hate how my heart drops, she’s trying to  let me down easy, and I just can’t keep standing here, subjecting myself to this.

“But… that’s just how you are with everybody,” I confirm.

Her smile fades, “What? —no… I just mean,” she’s flustered.

I finally sigh, “I don’t have time for this bullshit,” my words, tone, and actions are more confident than I really feel. There is a huge part of me that still wonders if I misread everything between us, but I need to stick with it, even though my heart is pounding, “You either flirted with me and you’re denying it, or I misread everything, either way… I don’t have time or energy to sit here and let you gaslight me, Lola, or to just stand here feeling humiliated,” I turn and start to pass by her, my heart in my throat.

She catches my arm again, stopping me. I look down at her hand on my arm, and she lets go, “Wait, please. _Fuck_ … just wait, okay?” she breathes, searches my face again, “Okay, no, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry, you are absolutely right,” she says, her voice cracking, her eyes are vulnerable. She looks almost panicked, she runs her hands over her hair, “ _Fuck.”_

She’s still talking, saying something about trying to not be the bad guy and sucking at it, when my phone buzzes, I look down and see a notification and what I see makes me unlock my phone, a text message from an unknown number, Lola’s voice fades out and she’s quiet, “What?”  she asks.

_No doubt Lola’s been flirting by sending you music, here’s one for you._

There’s a link to a song on _Lola’s_ Spotify account, I hold the phone out to Lola accusingly, “June just confronted me down at the café… is this her too?”  I ask her.

“June did _what?” s_ he looks astounded and takes my phone from me looking over the message.  Her eyes widen and she’s typing something I lean over the phone to see her typing _This is Lola, don’t fucking contact Shay! This isn’t about her._ She’s then deleting the text thread and blocking the number and thrusting the phone back at me, “She talked to you at the café?  When?  What did she say?”

“About 5 minutes ago, she said all sorts of helpful shit,” I tell her. “How did she get my number?”  I ask too loudly. I’m too freaked to even be embarrassed, “I don’t need this crap, Lola!”

“I don’t know, I swear! What the fuck? What did she say?” she asks, looking horrified.  She keeps touching my arm and I keep moving it away, which just seems to escalate everything.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her, wishing I hadn’t told her.

“Of course, it fucking matters, what did she say?”

“It really doesn’t,” I tell her quietly, I can’t look at her again.

“Don’t say that,” Lola’s voice is quiet now too, and she touches my wrist, I glance up and her eyes are shining, _is she going to fucking cry?_ She hesitantly steps in front of me and puts her hands on my face her fingers are cold, and I realize I’m probably all red-faced and flushed from anger and embarrassment.  I don’t push her away, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, feel it in my fingertips, “Don’t let her ruin this,” she whispers.

“Let _her_ ruin this?” I ask, amazed, and push her hands away, “I don’t know what the fuck _this_ is, I don’t even know what’s going on, but if anything is getting ruined, she’s only part of what is _ruining_ it.”

“I know.  Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Lola is speaking quietly to me, trying to get me to calm down too.

“I don’t care about being right, I care that this is dramatic bullshit and I don’t want any of it!” I tell her.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry this is happening, I’ve handled this really badly, and I’m sorry she’s coming to you, I’ll take care of that, I’ll fix this, I’ll fix everything, I promise, I’m sorry, I don’t know what she’s thinking. This has nothing to do with you really, she’s hurt right now and she’s… I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, but I’ll fix it, I promise,” she’s telling me, moving in front of wherever I try to move my eyes, her hands moving around me like she wants to touch me but knows I don’t want her to.

I finally stop looking away from her, I drop my voice and look at her carefully, making sure she’s hearing every word I say, “I work _really_ hard to keep the never-ending bullshit from one area of my life from destroying every _other_ part of my life, I’m kind of an expert at managing that, I am _working_ right now,”  I tell her, pointing firmly at the bookstore.  She nods at that, eyes big, “I am trying to reduce the amount of drama in my life, if this is going to be a bunch of drama, then I don’t… I can’t…”  I don’t finish the sentence, “I am _late_ right now, I can’t _do this_ right now.”

She holds her hands up to me, calming and non-threatening, “I understand, okay, I’ll go, I’ll take care of this, don’t worry... I’ll go,” Lola backs away, she pauses, “just don’t worry, just wait, I’ll fix everything.  Just promise we will talk later.”

“I am late,” I say again. 

“We will talk later,” she says with a nod and then she backs away and turns to rush away and I watch her go, feeling manic.

Once she’s gone I breathe a sigh of relief, and go into the shop, Fern is looking at me with big eyes, “Jesus, I’m sorry,” I tell her.  She just shakes her head.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, drama… I don’t even know, I’m sorry, seriously.”

"It's okay, do you need to talk about it?"  she asks quietly.

"Fuck, no," I laugh.

“Do you … like… need to go home or something?”

I sigh, smiling at her, trying to convey that everything is okay, “I need normalcy… I also need… like… money,” I admit, and Fern smiles, “so even if I was literally in flames I’d be staying at work right now.”

“I feel that,” she says to me, she’s quiet for half a beat then asks casually, “Is she… is that your girlfriend?”

“No, Lola? No,” I say too quickly, “A… friend I guess… but… I don’t know, I need new friends,” I joke.

She smiles down at the books she is pricing, “Would you be interested in a night out?” I look up at her, catch when she glances at me, “You seem to need one and you owe me for that night you got sick.”

I laugh, “I owe you for that?”

“Yes, I was very disappointed,” she tells me airily.

“Yeah?”  she’s blushing and it’s flattering.

“Yeah, I mean… yeah… and you sound like you could use a night out.”

“I could use a night out,” I admit.  A customer comes up then and I pull myself away from Fern and greet them, ring them up, reluctantly participate in some bullshit small talk with them while Fern silently prices books beside me. 

When the woman leaves Fern picks up where she left off, “There’s an all-ages show tonight, just this acoustic set at that coffee shop down the street, it’s early… I know it’s a school night… we’d be home by 9… we could leave from work…” she’s listing all of these things as if she’s trying to convince me.

“Yeah?  Yeah, okay, I have to call my roommates, we do this dinner thing, so…”

“Oh, that’s nice, I didn’t know you had roommates,” she says, watching me with interest.

I start to tell her a watered down, non-oversharing, Lola-free version of how I celebrated a little too enthusiastically after performing on Saturday and how that somehow ended up with me renting a room in a house with strangers.  She laughs at that, tells me it was fate, she asks me questions about the concert, about my band, about me, she says she wishes she’d known and she would have come to see the show.  It’s so easy and normal.  I hadn’t realized how much I needed a conversation with someone that didn’t revolve around all of the bullshit in my life.

I text Jack when Fern goes to shelve the new books.

 

_Jack_

_Hey, this girl I work with asked me to go to an_

_all-ages show at this café near our work today_

_Ooh, a date?_

_No_

_Maybe_

 

I hesitate, not sure how to word my question, or… statement… do I have to ask permission?

 

 

_I’d like to go, but I know I said I’d come to dinner_

_That’s fine,_

_But you have to promise to be there for Family Game Night Friday ™️_

_Deal._

_I’ll be home by like 9:30 or something._

_Okay, be safe, Cleo._

_Thanks, Jack, I’ll text if I’m late._

_xx have fun_

+++++

Fern and I are sitting in the dimly lit and crowded cafe, we managed to get a small table at the front near the stage.  The music is chill, quiet enough for us to talk and we’re drinking lattes and eating ham and cheese croissants instead of dinner.  Fern has her chin in her hand, watching the band.  I've left my phone on silent in my pocket, ignoring any notifications that buzz through, assuming anyone would just call if it was an emergency, but when it buzzes three times in quick succession, I check it, and I’m not surprised to see that they are texts from Lola:

 

_I’m so sorry about earlier today,_

_I talked to June she won’t bother you again, I promise._

_Are you okay?_

I’m about to put the phone back in my pocket when it buzzes again several times in a row:

 

_I’ve missed talking to you.  Today didn’t count._

_I feel like everything is fucked up, I hate it_

_I need to explain shit to you,_

_If you’re not ready we could just talk about something else, anything, seriously_

_I miss listening to music with you, I added some songs to the In the Dark playlist,_

_Call me so we can listen together?_

Fern looks up at me, and I give her a smile and text back quickly:

_I’m out, I’ll talk to you soon._

_Okay, sorry, have fun._

I put my phone back in my pocket and go back to drinking my latte, but there’s something nagging at me, Lola mentioning her playlist reminded me of the song June sent me and my brain won’t let it go, trying to remember the name and artist.

It nags at me all night.

Fern drives me home and when we get to Jack’s… I mean  _my_ house, I look up at it all bright and happy looking.  There is a big rainbow flag hanging from by the door, carved pumpkins starting to cave in on the front porch.

“It’s a nice house,” Fern says beside me, music is playing quietly on her stereo.

“Yeah, it is,” something occurs to me suddenly, “you want to come in?”  I ask, my request surprises me, and I realize it could come across as suggestive, Fern looks a little surprised also.

“I... I should get home.  I have some homework,” she says.

I rush to explain, shaking my head, “It just occurred to me that I live somewhere where I can have friends over, it’s just been a while,”  I shrug.

Fern smiles, “That’s nice,” she says, and she means it, “maybe next time?”

I nod, looking up at the house, “We…”  _yeah,_ “we have some sort of family game night thing happening Friday, I have no idea what it involves… I’m guessing my roommates and games… and probably food and reality TV and… inappropriate conversations…”

“You’re inviting me?”  she asks, eyebrows raised.

I shrug, “Yeah?”

Fern smiles, “Yeah, okay.”

I smile too, “Okay, my roommate Jack will probably give you a nickname and then never call you anything else, so you might want to prepare yourself.”

“What does he call you?” she asks, already grinning in anticipation of the answer.

“Cleopatra,” I tell her, ready to explain.

“Because of the hair,” Fern says nodding.

“Yeah!  I guess that’s a thing.”

“It’s a thing,” Fern agrees, laughing.

I watch her for a moment, as she looks shyly down at her lap, she’s pretty and sweet, she’s fun, but I don’t feel what I feel with Lola and I hate that, “I should go I guess,” I start to say.

“I hope going out helped?” she says at the same time.

“It did, thank you, I needed that,” I tell her honestly.

“Good.”

I look at the house and see someone peering out at us, “Shit, Jack’s watching us?”

Fern leans down and laughs, “Why?”

“So he can be nosy.”

“That’s kinda sweet, like an interfering big brother."  She leans across me, "Hi!” Fern smiles and waves at him and I pull her hand down, making her laugh. 

I suddenly feel awkward and let go of her wrist, “Okay, so... I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Yeah, good night, Shay.”

“Good night, Fern,” I say and climb out.  I feel like something is missing for a moment and realize my bag feels light on my shoulder, I expect the weight of clothes and toiletries in my backpack, but it only holds my school books now.

“You got everything?”  Fern asks, noticing me patting my bag.

“Yeah, I’m fine, good night,” I say looking back at her, I watch her for a moment, wondering why I don’t feel those butterflies. Maybe I’m one of those fucked up people who need drama to be into someone, that would be  _so_ like me. 

She smiles, “Good night,” she says, and I turn to go into the house.  She waits until I am inside to drive away.

Jack is sitting on the couch smirking at me, holding a magazine open on his lap though I know perfectly well he wasn’t reading it.  Charlie is slumped in his chair looking bored as he watches TV, “Hello, there, Princess,” Jack says.

“Princess?  I thought I was a queen,” I ask him.

“That you are.  Who was that?” Jack asks, and I roll my eyes as I make my way to the kitchen.  I hear him scramble behind me and he is peppering me with questions as we walk, “You were in the car for a while, did she kiss you?  Will we meet her? Did she kiss you, though? Did you have fun? I couldn’t see her, is she pretty? —I bet she’s pretty, did I see red hair?  How long have you known her?  Was it a _date-_ date?— or what? Will you see her again?”

“Is there dinner left?”

“In the microwave, I thought you might be hungry,” he says casually, and my heart swells a little at that.  I open the microwave and smile at the plate covered with plastic wrap before pulling it out.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“Of course,"  he says quickly, "come on, Cleo, give me _something,"_ he whines.

“I have homework,” I tell him and move towards my room.  I hear him sigh behind me and pause by my door, “Her name is Fern, she’s a red-head, and yes, she’s pretty and very nice,” I tell him, and he grins at me, happily from the middle of the hall.

I sit on my bed, playing music through my phone while I eat dinner and finish my homework.  When finish, I leave my plate on my nightstand, knowing I should take it out, but feeling too tired and lazy.  I change into Jack’s sweats and t-shirt again and go brush my teeth, I leave my door cracked open again and climb into bed in the dark.

As tired as I am, my head is spinning and I give in and reach for my phone, I open Spotify and the link to Lola's playlists.  She has so many of them, all set to public. I start to scan through them, looking for anything that triggers me.  An artist catches my eye, _London Grammar_  but the song doesn't seem familiar, I keep going but there are too may playlists and songs. I finally search for the artist, and scan through her songs looking for something that catches my eye, _Non-Believer_ is the one, so I plug in my headphones and listen. Yes, this is it, this is the song that June thought to send me when confronting me about fucking around with her girlfriend:

 

 _We both know that you wanna love her_  
_Skies are open crying, please don't believe her_  
_'Cause she'll tell you lies and then say it doesn't matter_  
_And you're pleased to see her calling them non-believers_

 

My heart is in my throat,

 

 _Do you realize again, you chased an idea_ _  
Heels and earth behind some broken creature  
_ _Maybe she loves you, and I'm just a preacher_  
_Non-believers crying don't believe her_  
_Don't believe her, no_  
_Don't believe her, no_

My phone buzzes beneath the song, and I open up my texts, moving past Lola’s to find one from Fern _I had a lot of fun tonight, I’m glad we finally got to hang out, I wish I’d said yes when you asked me to come in. Goodnight Shay._

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm participating in NaNo this month, so it will be a lot of words and not a lot of editing.
> 
> I'll come back later and clean stuff up.
> 
> kudos are fun. comments are even MORE fun. <3
> 
> Chapter title is from the song used in this chapter, which is:  
> Non Believer-- London Grammar  
> It is a beautiful song that June used for evil purposes  
> (thank you to my friend Sarah for introducing me to the song)


	13. It's a lot, right now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +++++
> 
> Then the weirdest thing happens. Without me actually deciding to, my hand reaches out and grabs a hand as it passes me, and I look up to meet surprised eyes looking back at me.
> 
> +++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Shay tried to avoid Lola, but while doing so ended up being approached by June. June told Shay that Lola was a liar and cheat and she shouldn't take her too seriously or she'll get hurt. When she got back to work, Lola was there and she tried to reassure her that everything was okay. June texted a song to Shay which reiterated her warning that Lola was a liar. Lola assured her that she would fix everything. Shay ended up going out to see some live music with Fern and had a lovely time, but realized she didn't feel the same way about her as she did Lola.
> 
> In this chapter: It's a long week, Lola pulls Shay back in, and Shay has to make a choice.

+++++

I’ve had another long fucking week. I seem to have a lot of these _long weeks,_ lately.

Lola has kind of been a lurking presence, not in a creepy way; she’s just kind of everywhere in a respectful distance kind of way that’s reassuring and, well, perfect.  I’m not entirely sure _why_ she’s persisting in this, though. 

Friday morning, I find a note in my locker, folded small enough to fit through the slats, _Can I still send you songs?  So many songs remind me of you._ with a small stick figure in the corner wearing enormous headphones and holding her phone. On Monday the note would have pissed me off, but as I said, it’s been a long week, and when I read it now, my heart does this funny spasm, and I put it in my pocket instead of the garbage.

I see her down the hall at lunch, and she waits until I make eye contact, then moves towards me carefully, she wants to talk again, I can tell by the way she smiles at me, all nervous and perfect.

She’s been doing this since she left me outside of my work on Monday, little notes and low-pressure conversations. I admit she’s worn me down.  I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that. Tuesday, after lunch she’d waited for my friends to leave, then lingered for a bit, asking about how it was living with Jack and Charlie, then left at the bell, saying she’d see me later.

She was quietly standing beside my locker, between classes later, hugging her books to her chest and those eyes of hers were doing funny things to my heart. She asked me about the paper I had turned in over the weekend, and if I’d heard back about my grade yet, then walked me to my class, and left again, saying she’d see me later.

And so it went, all week.

Every time she stopped to talk to me, and I let her, I found myself looking around us.  I felt like someone would somehow know what was going on, that I had no backbone, and was being pathetically needy clinging onto a flirtation with a girl who had a girlfriend already, but the other students rushed by not even noticing us.

Before school on Wednesday, she’d stepped beside me in the breezeway and talked a with me as we walked.  She asked how I was, “I’m okay,” I told her, not elaborating.

“I know you’re uncomfortable with me, and I hate that, but you can talk to me, you know,” she’d said, “I know you’ve had a lot of shit to deal with and I should be, like… _not_ more of that, and I can do that for you, I can, I promise,” she’d said to me.  I could feel her eyes on me as we walked, but I kept my eyes forward.  She wanted me to believe her, and I wanted to believe her.

“I need to get to class,” I told her and left her in the hallway.

During PE, I received a text from her and asked to go to the bathroom, I got there before her and wasn’t sure if I should stay. I was about to leave when she finally showed up. She looked at me for a moment as I stood against the wall, then she checked under the stalls and came to stand beside me, her body angled towards me.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said quietly.

“Yeah.  What do you want?”  I asked her, not angry, just confused.

“I miss you,” she sighed.

I felt my neck prickle at that, not sure what to say; I just ran the toe of my shoe over the lines of the tile below us. Someone came in then, and Lola stopped talking, but the girl grabbed some paper towels and left again.

“I really fucking miss you,” she said again, as soon as the door closed, but then sighed and asked, “What can I do?”

I shrugged, not knowing what either of us wanted. 

“Talk to me, please?”  she sighed.

“I don’t remember a lot about Saturday night,” I confessed. “What did I… did I say… did I talk about…?” I could feel my face burning even trying to ask these questions.

“Don’t worry, seriously, you didn’t say a lot,” she shrugged, “you were sweet and funny, and I had fun with you,” she said with a smile.

“What did I _say_ to you though? I talked about my mom?”

She nodded, “You did talk about your mom.”

“What did I say about her?” I asked my shoelaces.

“You said she… you said she drank, and you said she was a mean drunk,” Lola explained quietly, “that you couldn’t live there anymore.”

“Okay,” my ears burned, this isn’t information I meant to share with her, but I did remember having said it.  I hesitated, then decided to test her offer for a listening ear, “she’s in rehab,” I told her.

“Your mom is? How long?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, we haven’t talked, it’s not a good situation.”  Lola nodded, and I continued, relieved to talk about it finally. “She told me she was going she’s never actually gone before, but she texted me yesterday to say she was leaving today.”

“That’s good!” Lola said, brightly.  I was still trying not to be invested in what my mother did or didn’t do, or in Lola, but her optimism was getting to me.

We were quiet again, “Did I tell you anything else?”

“You talked about your dad; about him leaving for Cloe… you just kind of… you let me know about that,” I just kept nodding, humiliated and not sure how else to react, “which, you know…,” two girls entered the bathroom then, and set to primping in front of the mirror, making Lola huff impatiently.

“Shit. Come on,” Lola sighed and led me from the room.

I followed her out, but when she tried to take me into a dark empty classroom across the hall, I stopped, “I need to go back to class,” I told her and left.

 

Wednesday night she texted me, _I love that we talked, I wish I’d said more._

I waited a good long while just out of stubbornness, waited until after Charlie, Jack, and I had eaten the stir-fry I had managed to make, then responded, _We can talk sometimes._

She sent back a string of nonsensical emojis in response. Which I admit made me smile enough that Jack noticed and asked me if it was _the red-head_.

“It’s Lola,” I’d told him without thinking, then went and hid in my room to avoid him the rest of the night so I could avoid his smirking.

 

Thursday, Lola sidled up to me in the parking lot outside of school as I walked to work, “So I was going to say, before we were interrupted in the bathroom,” she began right away, and I looked up at her startled, “that you don’t have to be embarrassed, because everybody has bullshit in their lives, you know?”

“Yeah, okay,” I told her, uncomfortably. “Hello, by the way,” I added sarcastically.

“Hello,” she responded casually, then continued, “and also, I think we should discuss the almost kiss.”

I glanced around us, but nobody was nearby, “I don’t think we need to talk about that, like ever,” I disagreed.

“See, but, yeah, I need to talk about it, because that was hard to say no to, but you were drunk, and also, I wasn’t going to be a cheat,” she explained.

I halted my steps and gave her an unimpressed look, which earned me a honk from a car trying to get by me.

Lola pulled my sleeve to get me out of the way, and we stood between two cars, looking at each other, “Okay, I know,” she began, “I kind of was anyway.  June and I had been a mess for a while, but it was complicated.” 

 _Complicated?  That sounds remarkably like bullshit._  

Suddenly Lola turned flirty, “But, hey, about that kiss, I need you not to drink anymore because if I ever get the chance again… if you ever give me that chance again…”  she said, reaching out her foot to touch mine. 

My pulse raced at the thought, but also, _excuse me_?  I pulled my foot away and glared at her, “I have zero interest in being some side bitch,” I informed her, using Marlon’s words and started back across the parking lot.

Lola looked shocked, “Side… what? No! Of course not,” she’d yelled after me, “we broke up!” 

I almost tripped over the curb, but let her catch up, “You… she said you said you wanted to go on a break,” I told her.

Lola looked angry, “A break, Jesus, _we broke up!_ Our house is insane,” she sighs, “I’m sleeping on the fucking couch, nobody will talk to me, it’s a disaster, I’m going to have to find a new place to live.  God, my parents are _un_ thrilled, they want me to move back with them, but they’re living in Houston now, and I’m not fucking doing _that…_ ” Lola rambled as she walked beside me.

 _They broke_ _up?_

_She’s sleeping on the couch?_

_Houston?_

_Wait, what do her parents know about this?_  

I picked a thought and stuck with it, “That’s not what she said. She said this is what you do."

“What _I do?_ I broke up with her Sunday morning after I left you at Jack’s house.”

 _They broke up?-- because of me?_ “I’m sorry,” I said as we paused for a crosswalk.

Lola laughed beside me, so I had to look up at her, “You’re sorry? You dork, I’m not sad!” she hesitated, rolled her eyes, and added, “I mean, it sucks, obviously, you know… but I’m not _sad!”_

 _This_ _is what she does._ The light changed, and I started across, making her chase me, “Did you see the song she sent me?” I asked her.

She scowled, “Did you listen to that?” I didn’t bother answering her. She was quiet for a few paces, “I’m not a liar, and I’m not a cheat. I make a lot of friends,”  she sighed, “maybe I’m a flirt, I don’t know. I don’t cheat, though, I’ve never cheated, and I don’t disrespect the people I’m with I swear, I swear!” she told me, she’s adamant, and I want to believe her I don’t know if I do, I mean she _did_ disrespect June by flirting with me.

“She was wearing your scarf,” I told her instead.

“What?” she asked, confused.

I didn’t elaborate.  It was stupid anyway. 

I considered if I was in a position to be picky?  It’s not as if my life was so great that amazing girls were going to be lining up for me.  Fern was interested I guess, but I didn’t feel for her like I did for Lola, and who knew if she’d be interested if she knew anything about my life.  Speaking of Fern, we were getting close to my work, I stopped walking, “I have so much going on, Lola, I don’t know June… I barely know you…”

She frowned, “You know me, you _do_.”

I shook my head, “I really don’t.  June said…”

“June…”  she breathed, “I’m not going to talk crap about June, June has been there through a lot of shit, with me… and _for_ me.”  She sighed, frustrated, "you’re so fucking brave!” she said suddenly, and I didn’t know what to say to that. 

“Brave?” my mind stuck on the word.

“Shit, yeah!  You take risks, and you just seem to just, like… _do_ shit.  You just do what needs to be done to get what you need, and that’s fucking amazing.”

“Bullshit,” I told her, but my voice was weak, a part of me thought maybe she’s right, I’m a fucking mess but I do what I need to do.

_Next thing is next._

I stopped walking, facing her on the sidewalk, “I need to go to work,” I told her, “don’t follow me.”

Her eyes were bright, “I won’t.  Thank you for talking to me.”  I turned to leave her, and she called after me, too loudly. “Can I text later?”

“You can text later,” I told her without looking back, and walked the last block to work on my own.

 

Thursday night I was in my room doing homework when I heard a knock on my open door, “Do you need help with your homework, my daughter,” Jack asked.

I laughed, “That’s not creepy or anything,” I told him, but when I looked back at him, he looked eager, “Yeah? Sure, come on over and check my work.”

Jack rubbed his hands together and leaned over my calculus, he grimaced, eyes widening, “Eh… looks good to me, you’re doing well,” he announced, clueless.

“Yeah?”  I asked sarcastically, “Thanks, very helpful, I appreciate it.”

Jack laughed, “Dinner is in about thirty minutes, Cleo.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

My phone vibrated on the desk between us, screen lighting up with a text from Lola.

“Ooh, Lo- _li_ -ta!” Jack squealed, excitedly, “I’m so glad you two are patching things up.”

“Maybe,” I corrected him and turned my phone over.

“You’re not going to answer?”

“Later. Priorities,” I told him smugly.

“Smart girl, make ‘em sweat, I taught you well,” he said proudly and hugged my head, kissing my temple.

“ _You_ taught me that?” I mumbled under his arm as I tried to push him away.

“I’m going to make a fabulous father,” he sighed dreamily and squeezed me extra tight before letting me go and moving towards the door.

“Hey, Jack?”  I called, and he stopped and spun back to me, “I didn’t know Lola had a girlfriend,” I confessed.

He frowned slightly, “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

He waited for a beat, then assured me, “Lola is a good girl, just so you know, she really is.”

“You sure?” I asked him, and he looked surprised.

“Yes, I’m sure,”  he said, “and so are you.”

“Okay,” I told him.

He smiled as if happy that I seemed to trust him, “Dinner in thirty,” he reminded me again and left my room, pulling the door mostly shut behind him.

As soon as he was out the door, I’d picked up the phone, _You busy?_ her text read.

 _No._ I’d responded. Then we’d spent the next half hour talking about nothing.

 

Now it’s Friday at lunch and Lola is walking towards me, I can feel her note in my pocket, it feels loud and alive like it’s trying to get out.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asks.

“Family game night tonight, then I promised my friends I’d let them come to see where I’m living now. I’ve basically abandoned them; I have some friendship maintenance overdue.”

She nods, “That’s important.”

I hum in response.  I know that on the surface I have some power here, I’d be lying if I said the illusion of it didn’t feel satisfying, but it’s all bullshit, Lola still holds all of the power. For a minute, I can’t remember why I’m mad at her, why I’m not pursuing this.

 _This_ _is what she does._

There’s not much in my life I have to hold onto, that’s why… she could end me, that’s why.

What if June was telling the truth?

I’m not brave.

I’m careful, I’m calculating, I have to be.

“I have to go; I’m meeting Ty for lunch,” I tell her abruptly and leave her standing in the hallway.

\-----

Fern is fantastic; she’s lovely and kind and sweet and… safe. She’s safe because I have nothing invested in her.  She’s mostly a friend, and it’s shitty of me, but if things went badly, I’d be okay without her around. 

See? Calculating.  Not brave. And, I’m realizing, not very nice.

We’ve closed up the bookshop, and are in her car, she’s being her lovely self, talking happily to me as she drives me home, and I’m looking at my squad’s group chat.

I’m never there anymore.  I don’t even know what they are talking about when I read through the thread.  If I go back far enough you see how their attitude towards my absence has progressed: attempts to include me, questions about my whereabouts, teasing, little, cutting jokes, outright proclamations that I’ve abandoned them, then nothing… they don’t talk about me at all anymore.

I’m going to lose my friends.

 _Hi, my name is Shay, nice to meet you._ I write to them, then wait hopefully.  There is silence, then…

_Rosa:  New phone who dis._

_Beth: Hey stranger, are we worthy of your attention suddenly?_

_Malik:  Yo!  IT SPEAKS!_

_Tyler:  I told you she was alive._

There is nothing from Marlon.  I hope he’s just busy.

 _You guys want to come over Saturday?  Check out the new digs?_ I ask them.

_Beth: Absolutely!_

I get a private text from Tyler _Thank god you surfaced, I couldn’t hold them off much longer, they’ve been asking about you, and they all want to hang out with Lola too, I really think it’s time to talk to them._

_Lola and I aren’t a thing._

_We_ _aren’t even hanging out anymore._

_Still… time to talk to them, I think._

Ugh, not fucking now.  I’m exhausted.  Everything is so damn _close._ Constant.  I need time to recover between episodes of bullshit.  I need a fucking reprieve.

 

_I just a want everything chill for once, man._

_I get it, hey, I’ll be at your place in about 20 minutes_

_We’ll be there about the same time, see you soon._

_You got something in the mail today.  I’m bringing it with me_

_Okay, thanks._

_Looking forward to meeting Fern officially._

_Don’t embarrass me._

_You can't hear my evil laughter, right now._

 

 “Everything okay?”  Fern asks.

As I put my phone in my pocket, it vibrates, and I glance to see a text from Lola, I ignore it and put my phone away, “Everything is great,” I tell her, “Tyler will be there, he’s looking forward to embarrassing me.”

“Sweet!” she says excitedly.

There are several cars in our driveway when we arrive at the house, including Tyler’s which pulls up behind us, “Hey, looks like Tyler and I won’t be the only guests?” Fern says.

“I guess not,” I agree, warily.

Tyler exits his car and says hello to Fern then hands me a rather large box.  I had been expecting an envelope.  He shrugs at me, and I lead the way into the house.  A room full of people greets us as we enter the house.  I only recognize about half of them.

“Tyler! —and Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile!”  Jack exclaims as we enter, he is grinning at me from the couch, and everyone turns to look at me, but his smile fades as he sees Fern behind me, “and a guest!”

“Hi everybody, this is Fern,” I tell them, and she steps up close beside me, gives the room a small wave, to which the group replies with scattered welcomes.  Jack glances to his right, and I see why his smile faded, Lola is standing beside the kitchen doorway, her eyes flashing between Fern and me.  She smiles uncomfortably and drinks from her soda can.

I look to Jack who gives me a wide-eyed shrug, “We’re putting everyone’s coats on your bed,”  he tells me, “because you’re the only person with a clean bedroom."

“Oh, okay.” I turn to Tyler and Fern, “Can I take your coats? I’ll put our stuff in my room and be right back? Make yourself comfortable?”  I suggest, and they agree happily. “Keep Fern company please,” I whisper to Tyler, and he steps closer to her with a resolute nod.

I take our things and head down the hallway, giving Lola an awkward wave as a pass by her, then seek refuge in my bedroom for a moment.  I drop my bag by my door and move to my bed.  I add our coats, then shove everything over to open the Amazon box.  Inside I find a brand-new laptop. I’m confused for a moment until I realize it’s the laptop my mother bought to replace the one she broke.  I consider calling the treatment center to let her know I got it, but instead I move the laptop to my desk, turn off my bedroom light and rejoin the party.

\-----

The party is a potluck, and nobody bothered to tell me.  I grab a bag of chips from my pantry shelf and put them on the counter next to a bunch of other dishes.  There is music coming from the living room, mixed with laughter and voices from the rest of the group.  I take a minute to center myself, but then Fern is there beside me in the otherwise empty kitchen.  She places some kind of salad dish on the counter brought by someone who has just arrived and touches my elbow gently, “Everything okay?” she asks me.

“Yeah, I didn’t know there would be this many people,” I tell her, and open the chip bag, leaving out the part where Lola’s presence is freaking me out.

“It’ll be fun, yeah?” she says sweetly. “Your friends are nice, Jack’s amazing, he’s named me Anne with an E,” she grins. “Everyone legit thinks my name is Anne, so now we’re Anne and Cleo… seriously someone just said ‘Anne, how long have you known Cleo?’”  She laughs, and I smile at her, she’s such a good girl, I again find myself wishing I liked her more than I do, it would be so much easier.

“I barely remember my real name,” I tell her mournfully.

 “We’re playing Cards Against Humanity, everyone, get your asses in here, so I can hand them to you!” Jack calls to everyone.

Fern loops her arm through mine and pulls me back into the living room.  Our arms linked together reminds me of walking with Lola at the festival.  When we enter the room, I can feel Lola’s eyes on us and try to drop Fern’s arm in a way that passes as necessary and casual.

The group is large enough that we decide to play with partners, Fern and I pair up, as do Jack and Charlie, Tyler is with some girl with blonde dreads, and Lola is with someone named Ryan who she seems to know already.  Fern and I are crowded on the couch, pressed together, my arm is behind her for the sake of saving room, but when she laughs at something Jack says and sits back, she fits casually against my side so my arm is around her and it’s more familiar than I intended. 

There are a few things I notice about this:  First is that Lola is watching us.  She keeps shifting and excusing herself from the room and fiddling with her phone.  Second is that other than her, nobody blinks an eye, Fern is my date (even if I’m not sure that that is what this actually is) and it’s a pretty awesome revelation that nobody gives a shit.  The third thing is that when Fern presses against me, when she turns to me with that sweet smile and bright eyes, when she laughs, and I smell her hair, I feel _nothing_ other than friendly feelings for her, and that fucking sucks.

 “ _Blank_. High-five, bro,” Jack reads out loud, regaining my attention, and everyone scrambles through their cards, Fern jabs her finger in, and I snicker at her choice and glance around the table. Lola’s eyes meet mine, and she looks competitive if nothing else. “…three… two…”  I throw the card into the center of the table, “…one. Okay no more! No, take it back, you were too late!” he scolds another team, shoving their card back at them.

He reads through the cards with Charlie, muttering quietly, then laughing.  Charlie is severe and surly, even now, I don’t think I’ve seen him smile since I met him. Jack reads them all out loud, getting a few laughs, then he clears his throat, “Okay,” he begins, “the winner is…. Chainsaws for hands. High-five, bro,”  he announces.

 Fern pumps her fist and high-fives me, making me smile, and Lola, slumps back in her seat and drinks from her soda, frowning at us. “Okay, our turn,” I pull a card and hold it between us, “You read it,” I tell Fern, but she pushes my hand back towards me, “fine, okay, in the seventh circle of Hell, sinners must endure _blank_ for all eternity,” I read.

“Five…,” Fern starts and pairs are frantically shuffling their cards and speaking in harsh whispers, “… four… three…,” Jack laughs loudly and throws down his team’s card, “… two… one, done!” Fern says and collects the cards.

She holds them up, and we start looking through them, “Jesus, these are horrible,” she laughs. “This one, I think,” she says, and I shrug. We’re supposed to read them all out loud first, and I think that’s what she’s doing, but before I can stop her she says, “In the seventh circle of Hell, sinners must endure some douche with an acoustic guitar for all eternity.” At the same time, I look across the table to see Lola has picked up Jack’s guitar from the corner and has it sitting against her knee.  Her hand stills and everyone is quiet, except for Charlie, who sputters in laughter. “Oh,” Fern says quietly, and her face turns red.

“Good choice,” Lola says, dryly.

“Break time!”  Jack announces loudly, and everyone shuffles to get up.

Fern waits until everyone has busied themselves and then turns her pout to me, “It’s fine,” I assure her.

“Shit,” she sighs.

“It’s fine,” I say again. “Do you want anything? I’m going to the kitchen.”

“No,”  she says and slides down low on the now empty couch.

“Fern, it’s _fine_ ,” I say one more time, “you sure that you don’t want anything?”

“The last two minutes of my life back?” she requests, and I frown with her.

 

I’m in the kitchen when Jack finds me, and we’re alone for the first time all night, “I didn’t know you were bringing a date,” he says.

“It’s not really a date,”  I argue, and he looks at me unimpressed, “yeah, it’s awkward,” I admit.

“I invited Lola when I saw her at the store a couple of hours ago, I didn’t think to tell you, I should have, I thought you guys had made up.”

“I guess we’ve _started_ to, but it’s not like that.  I don’t know; I don't think there’s any real reason for this to be weird.”

“But it is, I’m ready to make popcorn for everyone so we can just sit back and watch you three,”  he says, and his eyes are bright with excitement.

“Why do I like you?”  I ask him and grab some chips.

A slow grin spreads across his face, “You like me?” 

I roll my eyes and push past him only to run into Lola in the hall, she looks surprised, glancing up at Jack, “I… I was just going to say goodnight to Jack,” she says to me.

“Are you leaving?” I ask, but I don’t know why I’m surprised.

She sighs, shoulders dropping, “Yeah, this is… I feel like I’m making people uncomfortable.”

I don’t know why, but panic rises in my chest, “You can stay, nothing is weird!”  I look to Jack who looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Shay, it’s weird,” she disagrees, “I didn’t know you were bringing a date.”

“It’s not a date!”  I say too loudly, and Jack makes some kind of hissing sound beside me, and when I look to the hall, Fern is standing there looking embarrassed, and Tyler is grimacing at me over her shoulder.

“I’m… it’s late, Shay, I should probably…”  Fern says, her face red.

_Fuck._

“Fern,” I begin, but what the fuck can I even say?

Lola shifts uncomfortably, “I’m going to get my coat,” she says to nobody in particular and starts down the hallway towards my bedroom.  Fern follows her, and I look at Tyler who frantically shakes his head and shrugs.  I trail after them and stand awkwardly as they dig through the coat pile.

“Are you sure you have to go?”  I ask, not sure who I’m addressing.

Fern is silent as she throws coats around the bed.  Lola flinches at her movement and steps back a bit to give her room, “I think so,”  Lola says and then reaches in to grab her coat as it reveals itself.  Fern finds hers also, and both girls are pulling them on.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, they are both leaving and I know I’ve fucked up.

Then the weirdest thing happens.  Without me actually deciding to, my hand reaches out and grabs a hand as it passes me, and I look up to meet surprised eyes looking back at me.

There is a sharp intake of breath, then a disbelieving exhale of air, and I turn to see Fern in the doorway staring at where I’m holding Lola’s hand.

“I’ll see you at work,” Fern says calmly and then she’s gone, shutting the door behind her and leaving me standing with Lola in my dark bedroom, our hands held between us.

I hear the front door close, and Lola looks down at our hands again, “Don’t go,” I tell her, and she searches my eyes for a minute.

Fern’s headlights shine through my window when she backs out of my driveway, and in the brief light, I see Lola smile at me as she steps closer.  I think she’s going to kiss me, but she pauses, her breath hot against my mouth, and I don’t breathe.  I finally realize that she’s waiting and leaving it up to me to close the space between us, so I lift and press my mouth against hers. 

It’s soft, almost chaste, her lips slightly chapped and dry, but soft under mine, different and new.  I’m scared for a moment, wondering if I’ve made the wrong choice, but then I feel her hands on my hips pushing me back and I let her.

We pull apart as my back hits the door, banging loud enough that everyone in the living room no doubt heard us.  I only give a shit for the two seconds it takes before Lola is kissing me again, hot and wet and sloppy, imperfectly perfect and rushed.  

Her hands are pulling me back off the door and against her.  We fit so flawlessly that I can’t think of anything else.  My hand finds her neck, her hair curling softly around my fingertips, and I can’t help but slide my thumb under her jaw and below her ear to where I know that mole is.  The first time I saw it, I knew it was just waiting for my hand, and I feel in my bones that it's just as it's supposed to be, which makes my throat tighten up with unexpected emotion. 

 _This_ _is it._ My brain is screaming at me.

 _This_ _is different._

 _This_ _makes sense._

 _This_ _is absolutely it._

She smiles at me, and she looks so happy that it scares me, and she’s so fucking beautiful it makes my heart hurt. She kisses my lips softly; then her mouth is hot and wet on my throat, raising goosebumps all up my arms. I take the chance to breathe, trying to slow my heart down. 

It’s a lot, right now, it’s just so fucking much, that I feel like I’m drowning in it.

It’s quiet outside of the bedroom, and all I can hear is the sound of our breathing and the door creaking behind me, until someone turns up music in the living room, probably to help cover for us. I barely consider that I should be embarrassed, I mean, I have _Lola Kamaka_ pressing me against the door of my bedroom, I don’t have any room in my brain to be embarrassed by that.

“I’m sorry,” she’s whispering, and she presses her forehead against mine and holds my face in her hands.

I grab onto her wrists and whisper back, “It’s fine,” even though I’m not sure what she’s apologizing for, I just want her to keep kissing me, she could blow up the world right now, and I’d forgive her.

Lola kisses me again, she tastes like root beer, and she smells like heaven, and I’ve never felt anything so soft in my entire life as her body against mine, “Everything is going to be fucking amazing,” she whispers. She’s right, everything in the universe is amazing.

The door bangs again as we shift, bringing me back to reality.  I push her back, and she looks mildly alarmed until she realizes I’m just moving us away from the door, then she smiles at me again, her knee pressing against the inside of mine.  The move makes me tense up, and she notices and rubs her nose against mine, “I got you,”  she whispers.  The moment is so soft, I’m not exactly sure how to handle it, not much in my life has been soft.

I'm overwhelmed, and I can’t help myself, I just bury my head against her neck. She pauses for a moment, her hands running up my arms, but then she hugs me back, her whole body wrapped around me like a cocoon, “I got you,” she whispers again, and I breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took so long, I really wanted to complete NaNo (I did), and the chapter just fought me SO HARD I thought I'd never get it done. I'm still not totally happy with this chapter. Writing them finally kissing was a big deal to my poor brain and it just wouldn't let me do it.
> 
> I KNOW I've messed up the tense a few times, I summarize a whole week in this chapter and it ended up awkward, so I'll eventually find all of my mistakes and fix them. I need to get this posted though, or I never will.
> 
> Comments make my world go 'round so please write to me, I'm needy... and sick.
> 
> coming up: everything is wonderful, now... right? Shay tries to find some balance and reconnect with her friends.


End file.
